A Better Birthday than Most
by Sam C
Summary: It's Janeway's birthday, and things are not going well. It could be worse, though! A story of adventure, romance and humour, with evil aliens thrown in as a bonus! Rating changed due to J/7 scene. Pretty mild, but wanted to be on the safe side!
1. Chapter 1

I don't own the characters or settings, I'm just borrowing them. The rating of this story might change. This story will contain a relationship between female characters. If you don't like that, don't read this (you'll be missing out, though!)

Any comments, send them to me. Reviews are welcome, please don't be nasty – I'm a scientist, not a writer!

A Better Birthday than Most

The photograph stood amongst a squadron of books, all neatly standing to attention, tucked away at the back of a rarely-used shelf. Once or twice a year – no more – Janeway pushed aside the well-read tomes: Chaucer, Bronte, Dickens, Faulks, J'ng'kek, and studied the framed picture with mixed emotions. A handsome man smiled out in a natural pose whilst he held a manly arm around a large dog. At first Janeway had to swallow her tears, but as time passed the feeling had diminished to a wistful nostalgia, wondering what might have been if Voyager hadn't got stranded, if she had returned from the badlands safe and sound, married Mark and lived happily ever after.

The Captain of the Starship Voyager sank down into her favourite chair and buried her head in her hands. She had convinced herself, so she thought, that she had no need for a partner, lover, soulmate. She was content with having friends, good friends, although as a Captain there was – and had to be - always a barrier there. 'Maybe I should get a dog, or the Delta Quadrant equivalent,' thought Janeway. In some ways, she missed her dog more than her fiancé.

***************

"Eggs Benedict. Scrambled, poached or fried eggs. Boiled eggs with soldiers. Plain omelette-"

Janeway grunted at the choices offered to her. Obviously there was a meat shortage on board. "Neelix, do you have anything that isn't made from eggs? And by the way – what sort of eggs are they?"

The furry chef tried his best to disguise a shifty expression. "Ah, well, Captain, I've got some bread, freshly made last night. How about…scrambled eggs on toast?"

"Just give me the toast. And coffee, a mug. A large mug. Actually, Neelix, make it a pot!"

Neelix scurried away and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Janeway wondering what she would actually have received if she had braved the eggs. She knew for a fact that there were no egg-laying birds on board, and they had passed a planet two days ago which hosted a particularly vicious reptilian life form that laid eggs by the hundreds. She put the thought out of her mind with a slight shudder.

Playing idly with a spoon, Janeway didn't even look up when the Mess Hall doors opened. She wasn't meeting anyone, it was very early in the morning before the shift change, and so she was surprised when a shadow fell across her table. The Captain looked up to see the Doctor smiling at her and holding a bunch of flowers, thrusting them towards her eagerly. She took them from him with a bemused half-smile.

"They aren't from me, Captain," said the Doctor, though his expression conveyed to Janeway that perhaps he wished they were. "I have been employed as a mere delivery boy. I, the Chief Medical Officer, who-"

"Thank you, Doctor," Janeway interrupted hastily, cutting off a mournful diatribe from the hologram. She took the flowers from him carefully, not wanting to disturb the delicate stems of the beautiful arrangement. "Doctor?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Who sent these?"

The Doctor snorted loudly. "If I knew that, Captain, I would have told you. When I came online I was in Holodeck Two and these flowers were sitting there in front of me, and before that I remember deactivating myself after treating Ensign Kim's bruised finger. Since the note said they were for you I thought I would bring them to you personally. After all, it _is_ a special day."

Janeway mustered her thoughts. Special day? What special day? Was it someone's birthday, one of the officers she didn't see very often, in engineering perhaps, or maintenance? The day the Doctor was activated? Some anniversary of Voyager's history that she'd forgotten (unlikely, as every minute of her time on Voyager was etched into her mind) or an obscure holiday observed by a member of the crew? Gathering all her courage, Janeway spoke.

"What special day would that be, Doctor?"

It was though a miniature photon grenade had exploded inside the Mess Hall. The Doctor was stunned, speechless for what Janeway thought was the first time since his activation five years previously. The Captain was relieved that there was no audience to witness the conversation.

"Captain, it's your birthday. Many happy returns." The Doctor plastered a smile on his face which matched his obviously fake cheerfulness. Janeway scowled.

"Thanks for the gesture, Doctor, but I'm really not in the mood." She thrust the colourful bunch back into the arms of the hologram and strode out of the room, ignoring Neelix's flustered shouts as he emerged from the kitchen brandishing a slice of toast.

* * *

Note: I have just written this whilst extremely inebriated. I will delete/edit/continue as suggested by any brave reviewers :-)

Sam.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Part 1**

Janeway marched along a corridor, muttering darkly to herself. The few crewmembers whom she passed averted their eyes and hurried by with a hasty "Good morning, Captain." With the ship's lighting still in night mode, the dimly-lit hallways matched Janeway's mood perfectly, and she felt sorely tempted to keep it like that all day, or at least until her black humour wore off. But, picturing Chakotay's earnest face and placatory tone persuading her that it really wasn't a good idea, she put the whim out of her head.

Reaching a turbolift, the Captain stopped. Where to go?, she pondered. Somewhere without any people, no-one to have to be polite to, nobody who would try to cheer her up or ask what was wrong. 'I don't _know_ what's wrong,' she thought, irritation with herself causing a hot, red flush to creep up her neck. Janeway stepped into the turbolift.

"Deck Three," she ordered brusquely. She would return to her quarters, curl up with a book and a hot coffee, and duty be damned. Although, she admitted, she really should apologise to the Doctor first – she had been rather rude. Janeway sighed. "Belay that order. Deck 5." The turbolift slowed then started again, the computer emitting a snide little beep of acknowledgement. "You can shut up," she snarled. On second thoughts, perhaps going to Sick Bay wasn't a good idea at the moment as in her current state she was liable to make things worse.

"Computer, belay that. Deck 8." The turbolift slowed again and Janeway leant against the cool wall and closed her eyes, then jerked upright as the lift came to a stop and the doors opened. In breezed Voyager's first officer, complete with crisp uniform, shining comm badge and polished boots that were positively gleaming. Chakotay's broad grin matched his bright appearance.

"Good morning, and happy birthday, Captain," announced the large, genial man. Janeway nodded briefly. 'Why him?' she thought. 'Why not one of the other officers who would simply say hello and then leave me alone, like Tuvok or Torres?'. True to form, Chakotay spoke again with a concerned note in his voice that made her want to poke his eyes out with the business end of a phaser rifle.

"Anything wrong, Captain?"

With most crewmembers, even the most experienced officers, a mere glance from Janeway's wide repertoire was all it would take, they would mumble an apology and flee. Not Chakotay. Janeway gave him her best 'go away' glare but the man just stood there, waiting for an answer.

"Nothing's wrong, Chakotay, I'm fine. I want those personnel reports by eleven hundred hours; it's time I made a few changes around here."

"I'll get on them right away. Anything else, Captain?" His words and tone were perfectly innocent, but there was a wolfish look in his brown eyes that Janeway knew. Her loyal First Officer would not let it rest and would no doubt talk to everyone on board in a quest to find out what was bugging his Captain. She grimaced, then quickly twisted her face into some semblance of a smile.

"That's all, Commander. I'll see you later." The doors opened and Janeway walked out, confused for a moment as she stepped onto Deck 8 having forgotten that she had changed her mind about going to see the Doctor. 'It's not like _he's_ never rude to people,' she thought huffily. 'And as usual, I have to sort it out.' The doors now facing Janeway were sluggish in their movement and she gave one a swift kick. It didn't make them open any faster but she did feel a little better.

The Astrometrics lab was in semi-darkness, its sole occupant until Janeway entered entirely consumed with her work and unconcerned with such matters as lighting, which at present suited the Captain entirely. Seven-of-Nine, the former drone whom Janeway had rescued from the Borg collective, who had been assimilated at a young age and was slowly regaining her humanity, stood silently at the main workstation and stared intently at the viewscreen.. The huge display showed what appeared to be a representation of the region of space they currently occupied, with course plots appearing one-by-one until the screen was covered in meandering lines.

Janeway watched as the younger woman's hands moved rapidly over the console and the display changed, showing three of the paths in more detail, with sets of numbers overlaying each one. The woman could be difficult, argumentative, headstrong and downright insubordinate but, thought Janeway, if all the crew were as determined, intelligent and bloody-minded as Seven-of-Nine, she would now be sipping coffee somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant.

"Is there something you require, Captain?" The voice startled Janeway and she jumped slightly. Covering her embarrassment with brusqueness, she approached the screen.

"What are you working on here, Seven?"

"Voyager's route through this sector," replied the blonde laconically without further explanation.

"Explain." More than irritated now, Janeway had snapped the word out, instantly regretting it as ice-blue eyes looked up to meet her own and feeling a sudden jolt in the bottom of her stomach. "I'm sorry," she amended, "I'm not…feeling myself this morning. Are these course changes that you're suggesting?"

A hint of a smile touched the Borg's full lips and her eyes, those clear jewels, flashed with carefully controlled excitement. Janeway hadn't noticed that before, and it got her attention more than mere spoken words could have done. She moved towards her friend and rested against the workstation.

"Either of these new courses would be an improvement," stated Seven, "however _this_ one," more buttons were pressed and one of the plots on the screen flashed red, "is the most efficient. It takes into account several additional factors that we had not previously considered and is the one I would recommend."

Janeway nodded. "Send it to the helm," she directed, turning to leave.

"Captain." Seven's voice stopped her and she stood still. "Many happy returns."

"What?" murmured Janeway, surprised.

"That is the correct expression, I believe, Captain, to wish someone well on their birthday. I am practising items from the Doctor's latest social lesson, 'politeness and pleasantries'."

The older woman could have sworn that there was something humorous in the former Borg's expression, impassive though it appeared on the surface. She thanked Seven briefly, feeling suddenly off-kilter, and left the room. As the doors closed behind her Janeway exhaled the breath she had not realised she was holding. The encounter had shaken her, for what reason she was unsure, and she decided that perhaps a visit to Sick Bay would be prudent after all, both to apologise to the Doctor and make use of his medical expertise. A mild relaxant should do the trick, along with a hot bath and a warm drink.

**Part 2**

"Ah, Captain, how nice to see you again," the temperamental hologram greeted her, his droll tone belying the pleasantness of the words. Janeway winced.

"I came to apologise, Doctor. I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I did in the Mess Hall. I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Captain. Next time I materialise unexpectedly on the holodeck and find a bunch of flowers with your name on it, I will simply ignore it and resume my duties as Chief Medical Officer."

"I suppose I deserved that," admitted Janeway wryly. She let out a small sigh and pushed herself onto a biobed, sitting facing the Doctor and dangling her legs over the side. "I'd like a check-up, Doctor, if you have the time." The Captain didn't elaborate, and the Doctor's sarcasm was instantly replaced by concern.

"What's the matter, Captain, are you ill?"

"You tell me, Doctor. Oh, I don't know, I just feel…off. I woke up in a foul mood-"

"No argument there," interjected the hologram, earning him a sharp scowl. "Sorry, go on," he added hastily, taking up a medical tricorder and scanning his Captain.

"I feel angry, irritated for no reason, I haven't slept at all and so far today I've offended everyone I've spoken to. If I carry on like this there'll be a mutiny on board." She looked away, staring distractedly into space. "I've just been in astrometrics-"

"And let me guess, our charming resident Borg brightened your day with her special brand of cheerfulness and good humour."

"Not exactly," Janeway smiled. "Seven has found a new course that will take months off our journey, but for some reason I just couldn't feel happy about it, it was like I didn't even care. And she was so pleased with herself, Doctor, I could tell. She wished me 'many happy returns'."

"Good to see that Lesson twenty-six did some good, at any rate. Is there more you want to tell me?"

The usually confident, strong-willed Captain appeared to be struggling with her words, unsure and more than a little nervous, and the Doctor waited patiently, peering at the display on his tricorder. Eventually Janeway spoke again, this time looking straight at the Chief Medical Officer.

"She made me feel…odd. I can't describe it, sort of – off-balance. Never mind. What do your scans say?"

"They say, Captain, that you need some rest. Take a vacation, or at least a day off. Doctor's orders. I'm not going to prescribe any medication yet, though your biochemical levels are slightly shifted from normal. Go and relax on the holodeck, play a game, read a book." The Doctor smiled at Janeway, helping her down from the bed and patting her on the arm. "You'll be just fine, Captain."

"Thank you, Doctor. I suppose a day or two wouldn't hurt. It's not like we're surrounded by Hirogen at the moment." Janeway nodded farewell and departed. Watching as she left, the Doctor again checked the tricorder, a worried frown creasing his features. He had not lied to the Captain, either directly or by omission, but for some reason he felt a niggling concern that wouldn't go away. He tapped his comm badge, an idea occurring to him.

"Doctor to Seven-of-Nine."

"Proceed, Doctor."

"Could you come up to sick bay? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

"Acknowledged. I will be there shortly."

**Part 3**

Chakotay was seated in the Captain's chair, exchanging jokes with Harry Kim and quite clearly not working on personnel reports. Janeway's anger began to rise again and she swallowed it with some effort as she walked across the bridge. As soon as he spotted her the First Officer started to stand, but Janeway waved him back into his seat. She sat in the chair to his right and leaned over, speaking quietly so that they wouldn't be overheard. Behind them, Kim was still laughing and Tom Paris had joined in.

"I'm thinking of taking a couple of days off, Chakotay," said Janeway, and the large man nodded affably.

"Sounds like a good idea; it's been a while since you've had a break." As Chakotay spoke, Janeway heard Tuvok's voice cutting through the hilarity of the young bridge officers, and ignored it. "Got any ideas as to what you might do," asked Chakotay, smiling. No doubt imagining what _he_ would do, thought Janeway, with another spark of irrational anger. Tuvok's voice was raised now, but still Janeway deliberately didn't interrupt. The Vulcan was more than capable of handling the situation.

"Oh, I don't know. I've got some holodeck time banked, or I might relax in my quarters, maybe redecorate a little-" she was stopped by a loud exclamation from Tom Paris at the helm.

"Alright, don't have a cow, Tuvok!"

There was silence on the bridge along with a palpable tension. Everyone waited, including Paris, watching their Captain as she turned from her conversation with Chakotay who placed a restraining hand on Janeway's arm. Her eyes flashed dangerously and even the devil-may-care helmsman shrank from Janeway's stare. When she finally spoke, the level, quiet tone was oozing with barely-controlled menace.

"Mr. Paris, you are relieved." Without a word, Tom left his seat and exited the bridge, with a final glance across towards Harry Kim, who shrugged sympathetically. The turbolift doors snapped shut, but no-one relaxed. Janeway turned to Chakotay once again. "You have the bridge," she stated, and she too left the room in silence.

Chakotay tried not to show it, but he breathed a sigh of relief. He was worried more now than he had been before and was pleased to hear that the Captain was taking a break. In an event like that which had just occurred, Janeway would normally have defused the situation using tact and humour and reminded the younger officers that the bridge was a place of work, and all would have been fine. He looked around and caught Tuvok raising an eyebrow.

"I am certain I was not 'having a cow', Commander, but merely reminding Mr. Paris of his duties," said Tuvok, and Harry muffled a snigger.

"I know, Tuvok. Forget it," replied Chakotay. He faced the viewscreen and leaned back, watching the stars as Voyager streaked past them.

**Author's Note**

Thank you to everyone who reviewed/commented on part one. Nobody said that it was rubbish and please could I stop writing such drivel, so I decided to continue the story. Et voila! Hope it's not a disappointment, there's more to come.

Sam.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Part 1**

When Seven-of-Nine entered sick bay the Doctor was carefully tending to a pair of potted plants, snipping at them here and there with tiny scissors and humming an aria from an Italian opera she did not recognise. He looked up and smiled, placing the scissors down carefully before moving to greet his young companion.

"There you are, Seven. Thank you for coming so promptly. Won't you sit down?" He gestured towards a chair by one of the diagnostic consoles.

"I prefer to stand," replied the former Borg predictably, folding her arms. "What can I do for you, Doctor?"

"All right, since you obviously have no time for chit chat I'll come straight to the point. You spoke to the Captain in Astrometrics this morning, is that correct?"

"It is."

"And how did she…seem, to you?" asked the hologram delicately. He was reluctant to pry, but the Captain's well-being meant more to him than the danger of being labelled a gossip.

"She…seemed distracted. I had expected her to demonstrate pleasure when I told her of my new course calculations-"

"And she didn't?" probed the Doctor, though Janeway herself had said as much.

"She did not," stated Seven-of-Nine. "Nor did she enquire as to my well-being which, though frequently irritating, is a daily occurrence. She also informed me that she was 'not feeling herself' today."

The Emergency Medical Hologram didn't answer immediately. His medical scans had shown no sign of any serious conditions, but he suspected that in addition to being tired and run-down, the Captain was feeling lonely and depressed. "You know, Seven, the Captain talks about you an awful lot. She has taken a personal interest in your progress on board Voyager. Maybe you and she could spend a little time together – I hear that she is taking a couple of days' vacation."

"I doubt that the Captain would wish to spend her leisure time with me, Doctor. I think not." The young blonde turned to go, but the Doctor, her friend and mentor, caught her arm.

"Please, Seven. Trust me. The Captain needs a friend right now, someone who is not a member of Starfleet, a subordinate-"

"I suggest you ask Mr. Neelix," interrupted the Borg, again making to leave but halted by Doctor who still held her arm firmly.

"Mr. Neelix is…an option. However I think you would be a better choice on this occasion. You could ask the Captain for some advice, talk to her about science or engineering, something that interests her. Just try, Seven, that's all I'm asking. She needs rest, and for that she needs to try to relax."

Seven-of-Nine inclined her head in agreement. "As you wish," she said primly with a pointed look at the Doctor's restraining hand. He hastily removed it and smiled sheepishly, fully aware that his friend could have easily removed it herself had she chosen to do so.

"See you later," he called as the doors closed and his friend disappeared from view. "Well, that could've gone better," he said to himself, unaware that in the corridor outside Seven-of-Nine was at that moment asking the computer for Janeway's location.

**Part 2**

The Captain was in her quarters, sitting in an armchair and staring dully out of one of the windows that looked out on the black expanse of the Delta Quadrant. She was angry still, with the Caretaker alien who had dragged them from the Alpha Quadrant; with the various alien races they had come across who had attacked, kidnapped and deceived them and in one case tried to erase them from existence entirely; with Q who could simply snap his fingers and send them home, yet who chose instead to torment them with his juvenile yet destructive games; with her unfailingly loyal crew who refused to place the blame where it was due; but mostly with herself. She could have prevented this, if it weren't for her precious morals. What good had they served out here, where it seemed that survival was a case of kill or be killed?

The door beeped, signalling the presence of a visitor. Without bothering to rise, Janeway called out wearily. "Who is it?"

"Seven-of-Nine," came the reply. Janeway looked down at the comfortable robe she had donned, together with soft woollen socks that reached almost to her knees. She had laughed when Neelix had presented them to her exactly one year ago, feeling sure that she would never have need of such a thing in her cosy, environmentally-controlled quarters. After trying them on that evening, she had worn them nearly every night. Of course, it was still morning now, but Seven had seen her in worse.

"Come in," Janeway muttered, not taking her eyes from the window. She heard the doors open and close and felt the young woman's presence behind her. Expecting Seven-of-Nine to walk around to face her, she was surprised to hear footsteps crossing the room and a soft command, followed by the hum of the replicator. A cup of something hot was thrust into her hand, from it rising steam that carried a fruity aroma combined with delicate spices. Unwilling to argue, she took a sip and was pleasantly surprised.

"It is a Talaxian drink," informed Seven-of-Nine, "given to children at the end of the day so that they may sleep well and have pleasant dreams."

"Oh?" Janeway's curious murmur was forced, but nevertheless she took a larger gulp from the cup.

"I believe it contains a plant extract which acts as a mild sedative and muscle relaxant. You require sleep, Captain."

Janeway's reply was slightly slurred as a calming wave washed over her. "How do you know?" she asked sleepily, finally pushing herself up with her arms and facing the former Borg. The older woman stumbled as she turned and Seven stepped forward quickly and caught Janeway around the waist. The Captain's robe sagged apart at the top, revealing the tops of her small, firm breasts. Propelling Janeway to her bed, Seven gently laid her Captain down and covered her with a blanket.

"If you were fully refreshed, Captain, that drink would have had very little effect."

Janeway was asleep before Seven-of-Nine had reached the doors. The blonde looked back as the doors opened, feeling an unexpected pleasure at seeing the Captain resting peacefully. She also felt something else, an emotion that was unfamiliar to her but one that she recognised from her research into human behaviour – an intense and sudden attraction to the small, sleeping woman.

**Part 3**

"I asked you to talk to the Captain, not drug her!"

The Doctor was rightfully annoyed, and Seven bore his lecture without complaint. When he had finished and was glaring at the Borg, she replied in an even voice with her carefully prepared, reasonable explanation which did little to pacify the hologram.

"Next time you feel the urge to sedate a member of the crew, I'd be obliged if you would come to me first. What next? An amputation here, an emergency tracheotomy there? Perhaps a spot of brain surgery before breakfast? What on Earth were you thinking?"

"You told me that the Captain required rest. This was the most efficient way of providing it."

The Doctor blew out a breath. "Well, no harm done, I suppose. How did she sound, anyway, before you turned her into Sleeping Beauty?"

Seven hesitated. Up to now she had shared her private thoughts and feelings with the Doctor, for as her self-appointed mentor he had attempted to guide her through the minefield of human emotions. This felt different, more personal, but her human side was intensely curious and she felt that she needed advice from some source. "The Captain was much the same as I reported earlier – distracted, uninterested and disengaged from her surroundings. Doctor, I wish to discuss something with you."

The Chief Medical Officer, though still showing signs of irritation, looked at Seven-of-Nine with interest. Leaning on one of the sickbay biobeds, he scrutinised his friend's expression carefully as she continued, telling him in precise detail what had happened (not very much as far as he could tell) and how she had felt. Seven used the passive voice as she spoke, unusual to say the least, as though she were describing a remote event or a scientific experiment. When she had finished, which took less than two minutes, Seven looked at the Doctor expectantly. He smiled reassuringly.

"It sounds to me like you've developed a crush on our esteemed Captain," he said jocularly, causing Seven to scowl.

"A crush?"

"An attraction, if you like. Intense, but thankfully short-lived in most cases. Captain Janeway has shown you great kindness, Seven; it's only natural that you would develop feelings of affection for her. I'm sure she's turned the head of many a young ensign over the years."

"I am not a young ensign, Doctor," the former Borg snapped. The hologram looked around in surprise.

"Of course not, I wasn't implying that you were. You're awfully touchy about this, if I may say so."

"You may not."

Seven stomped out of sick bay in a manner the Doctor never would have considered possible for a woman so naturally graceful. Then his smile was replaced with a frown as he remembered his own experience of a crush, an attraction he had felt to none other than Seven-of-Nine. It had been an unpleasant experience, for the blonde had not returned his feelings, and he found himself wishing that he had handled the conversation which had just ended rather more sensitively.

**Part 4**

There was a constant hum in Engineering, which served to make the crewmembers working there raise their voices when they spoke. This effect persisted even when the people in question found themselves elsewhere on the ship, and for this reason Seven-of-Nine was pleased to find B'Elanna Torres alone in the Mess Hall. Even the ever-present, furry, bumbling waste-of-space that was Voyager's chef was nowhere to be seen. Seven walked to where the half-Klingon officer sat chewing on some unidentifiable meat product.

"May I join you, Lieutenant?"

Torres looked around for signs that she had unwittingly entered a parallel universe, one in which she and Seven for some reason _didn't_ loathe the sight of each other. Seeing none, she placed down her fork with a grunt and gestured to the chair opposite. The Borg slid her lithe figure into the seat, watched by the irritated yet intrigued engineer.

"Well?" demanded Torres curtly. Of all the people on board, only she could compete with Seven-of-Nine in the rudeness department.

"I require – I would like - your assistance. You and Lieutenant Paris are dating, are you not?"

Torres regarded her with narrowed eyes. "Ye-es," she replied. "Why?"

"I wish to ask…someone on a date. How does one…proceed?" Seven looked and felt nervous, something Torres had never seen nor imagined, and she relented slightly, softening her tone.

"Who's the lucky guy?" smiled Torres, then, catching her companion's expression, continued hastily. "Well, normally you might speak to them a little first, you know, good morning, how are you, that sort of thing." Seven nodded and Torres continued, trying not to speculate about the other woman's intentions.

"Then you could ask them out, something simple like coffee or maybe dinner. One small step at a time, Seven. That's really all I can say." B'Elanna stopped and shrugged. "Does that help?"

"Perhaps," replied Seven. "Thank you," she added, just late enough that it sounded like an afterthought. Still, delayed politeness was better than none at all, and Torres managed to force out a 'you're welcome' before Seven had left the room.

"How odd," Torres mused, turning her attention back to her meal.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Part 1**

Lunchtime in the Mess Hall was always a pleasant interlude for the crew, with good food (courtesy of Neelix), pleasant company and, being the social hub of the ship, no shortage of gossip. The chatter between the three officers seated at a corner table had already covered the evening's plans, the oddly-flavoured soup, a new holodeck program and some suggested alterations to the Delta Flyer to make it more comfortable. For a minute, silence reigned. It never lasted.

"I had an interesting chat with Seven this morning," remarked B'Elanna offhandedly with a sly grin. Her mealtime companions quickly looked up, matching her expression.

"What did she want?" asked Tom, "The warp field out of alignment again?"

"By a phase of, what was it, 0.0004%?" laughed Harry. "She's a Borg alright, always striving for perfection."

"No," replied Torres, shaking her head thoughtfully and placing down her cutlery, laying her hands on the table in front of her. "This was personal."

"Did one of your engineers annoy her again?" asked Paris, only half-joking. Torres shook her head again and lowered her chin to rest in her cupped hands.

"No. She asked me how to go about asking someone on a date."

The men's faces were disbelieving. "Seven? No way," said Harry. "I thought she'd given that up."

"Who'd she have in mind?" asked Tom, shifting B'Elanna's plate in front of him and shovelling her leftovers into his mouth with a series of satisfied grunts.

"I don't know. She didn't say. I may have been a bit short with her," admitted Torres, eyeing her plate which was being emptied rapidly.

"You, short? Surely not!" teased Tom, eliciting a sarcastic grimace from his feisty girlfriend and a badly-concealed smirk from his friend. Torres held her hands up.

"I know, I know. Seven just…winds me up, you know? But she was serious this time. She's probably tracking down her prey right now, cornering him in some isolated Jeffries tube where he can't escape…"

"I hate those things," muttered Tom, "you get attacked in one of those, you can't even take a good swing at whatever's coming to get you."

"Anyway, I probably shouldn't even have mentioned it. Just forget about it, ok?"

Paris and Kim exchanged glances and grinned. Torres, in the process of retrieving the last few morsels of her lunch, failed to notice their mischievous expressions.

**Part 2**

"Afternoon, Seven. Good job on the new course calculation; should save us a few weeks." Chakotay strolled into the state-of-the-art astrometrics lab, every inch seemingly covered in display screens or operational panels or computer interfaces, and stood next to the Borg, who was tapping buttons and frowning.

"Three weeks, two days, eighteen hours and twelve minutes to be precise, Commander. Is there something I can help you with?" Seven's tone was her usual one – cool, with a slight edge of irritation threatening to poke through. Chakotay glanced across at the young woman. She was obviously concentrating intently on her work yet he sensed that she was waiting for more. With a mental shrug, he obliged.

"The Doctor told me what you did to the Captain. I have to say, it goes against every rule in the book." Chakotay paused, unsure how to continue. Seven-of-Nine took the opportunity to reply.

"I merely offered Captain Janeway a drink. I informed her as to its usage on Talaxia and she chose to drink it. I fail to see any transgression on my part, Commander."

'Logic,' thought Chakotay. 'Used by Vulcans to win arguments against humans for centuries, and now an ex-Borg is getting a piece of the action. Earth is clearly doomed.'

"I'm not here to talk about that. The Doctor tells me that you'll be accompanying the Captain on her vacation. I just wanted to know if there's anything you need, anything I can do to help?"

Chakotay waited. Eventually the blonde's hands stopped moving across the console and came to rest by her sides. Her expression was inscrutable, even to the sensitive First Officer. After an unbearably long pause, Seven replied.

"I would appreciate some…suggestions, Commander. What activities does the Captain enjoy most during vacations?"

Chakotay laughed. "Depends on the vacation, Seven. A week off with the possibility of being called back to duty at any moment? That would be a quiet, peaceful place where she could read books and relax. One day between normal duty shifts? A few games of velocity, a nice restaurant with good wine and tasty food. A night off? A beer and a game of pool in Sandrine's-"

"Two nights' uninterrupted vacation with no return to duty on doctor's orders?"

Chakotay blew out a soft breath. He knew Janeway better than almost anyone on board (Tuvok was the obvious exception) but he struggled to find an answer. It didn't help that Seven-of-Nine was regarding him intently, expectantly, inquisition-like. He coughed slightly, and those exquisite eyebrows rose a notch.

"I know just the place. Tell you what – leave the holodeck program to me. That way, it'll be a surprise for both of you. You have to relax sometime too, surely?"

It was meant as a joke, but as usual Seven failed to recognise (or acknowledge) the funny side. "The Borg do not relax. They assimilate."

**Part 3**

_Beep_

Janeway heard the faint noise through the dregs of her slumber. She ignored it rolled over, clutching the freshly-scented pillow closer and rolling away from the sound.

_Beep_

She pulled the covers over her head in a childlike way, seeking to hide from the world but – in the way children do – listening in all the same. Janeway felt groggy and disoriented, yet curiously rested. She remembered –

_Beep_

"Come in!" Janeway almost shouted, now fully awake and ready to face the day. Hirogen, Borg, Krenim – bring it on!

Seven-of-Nine entered the Captain's quarters. As soon as Janeway caught sight of the slender figure her breath caught in her trachea. The same feeling that had thrown Janeway off balance in Astrometrics had returned to haunt her. And there was only one common denominator.

Seven paused when her eyes alighted on her Captain. Sitting up in bed, she would have appeared to most people to be resting, but the ex-Borg thought otherwise. There was an alertness, a sense of anticipation in Janeway's eyes that could be explained in many ways; Seven put the thought to the back of her mind for the moment.

"Captain. The Doctor informed me that you require a vacation. I will accompany you. State your desired destination." Almost immediately the former Borg recognised her harsh tone, but it was too late to stop. Janeway remained unfazed by the demand. The Captain put her thoughts into gear, then smiled cheekily.

"You choose, Seven, I'm not up to it." Janeway lay down on her bed and sighed. The smile on her face belied her words. Janeway was indeed 'up to it' – she just wondered what Seven-of nine had in store.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

**Part 1**

"You must be so excited, Seven, taking your first vacation, and with the Captain? Where are you going, if I might ask?" Neelix's unfailing politeness did not hide his nosiness as he peered good-naturedly at the blonde ex-Borg. Whilst generally irritating and excessively verbose, the Talaxian was kind-hearted to the bone, and Seven's reply was, for her, the height of tolerance.

"You may ask. I do not know – Commander Chakotay kindly offered to choose a program that he thought the Captain would enjoy."

"Ah, I see. So have you packed for all weathers?" The furry little man elbowed Seven jovially. Resisting the urge to grab him by the throat and squeeze, Seven-of-Nine frowned at Neelix's question.

"The holodeck replicator can supply anything that I may require. However, my inventory can be adapted to satisfy most of the likely choices." She paused, suddenly realising that the Talaxian was carrying a large package. "What is that?"

Neelix shuffled his feet and looked away, embarrassed. "I, ah, I brought along some supplies that we, that is, Commander Chakotay and I, thought you might appreciate. Here," he said, handing the heavy bag over to Seven with a grunt, "there's food, some - ah, Captain!" he exclaimed, catching sight of Janeway. "I was just giving Seven a few things I put together…"

Janeway nodded. She was casually dressed, sporting black denim jeans, brown cotton blouse and stout boots. On top of her clothing was a thick, warm-looking insulated jacket with synthetic fur trim, and over her shoulders was a small rucksack. In one hand she carried a nondescript bag that bulged at the seams.

"Good evening, Neelix. That's very thoughtful of you." Janeway turned to her holiday companion and smiled with some effort. "Ready?"

Seven inclined her head. "Yes, Captain." Janeway faced the holodeck control panel.

"Computer, begin program. And," continued the Captain, glancing at the younger woman's attire consisting of her usual bodysuit and nothing else, "replicate a warm outer coat to fit Seven-of-Nine."

Neelix waved as the two women entered the holodeck and disappeared from sight.

**Part 2**

Chakotay sat alone in the briefing room, waiting. PADDs were scattered over the table in front of him, the product of an hour's work, writing personnel reports. He knew without even re-reading them that he would have to write them again, such was the distraction he felt due to the Captain's absence. The reports probably didn't even make sense, yet alone accurately reflect each crewmember's performance. Interrupting his thoughts, a beep sounded from the doors, announcing the presence of the officer he was awaiting. "Come in."

The doors opened and in walked Tuvok with the steady, measured pace and neutral expression Chakotay had come to expect.

"Good evening, Commander. You wished to see me?"

Chakotay nodded and gestured towards a chair which Tuvok took, resting his arms carefully on the table in front of him.

"Hello, Tuvok. I'm sorry for calling you here when you're off duty. Can I get you a drink?"

"No thank you, Commander."

The First Officer took a breath, then lowered himself into one of the seats. "I won't beat around the bush, Tuvok. Do you know what's bugging the Captain?"

Tuvok steepled his fingers under his chin and regarded Chakotay intently, almost as though deciding how much to tell him. Chakotay felt a flash of annoyance, but managed to keep his features fixed in a concerned expression and waited.

"I am not certain, Commander. However, I have a hypothesis."

This was maddening, like having a conversation with the computer, thought Chakotay. He was tempted to dismiss Tuvok right there and then, and was indeed opening his mouth to do so, when the Vulcan continued.

"Captain Janeway is lonely, Commander."

"Lonely?"

"Indeed."

"But she has all of us, her friends-"

"None of whom are her equal in rank. That is why you chose Seven-of-Nine to accompany the Captain tonight, is it not?"

Chakotay paused. It was true, but it hadn't been a conscious decision on his part. He shrugged. "The Captain needed someone; Seven seemed like a good choice."

"I agree. I believe that Captain Janeway needs the companionship of non-Starfleet individuals in order to form truly equal friendships, to confide in. Although you and I are her closest friends, we will always be her subordinates; I as a Starfleet officer of lower rank, and you having been appointed Voyager's First Officer."

"So that leaves Seven and Neelix? No offence, but that's not much of a choice, Tuvok. Surely she trusts you and me enough to have all that with us?"

Tuvok didn't reply. Chakotay stared at him, frustrated, then suddenly grinned. "Ok, I hear you. So, until Naomi Wildman grows up, I should encourage the Captain to talk to them?"

"I doubt that Captain Janeway could be _encouraged_ to do anything she did not already intend to do. However, I believe that this vacation is a 'step in the right direction'." Tuvok stood, arms by his sides and his eyes meeting Chakotay's. "If you have no further need of me, I must return to my meditation."

"Of course, Tuvok, and thank you. See you tomorrow."

**Part 3**

"This appears to be a mountain," stated Seven-of-Nine matter-of-factly, narrowing her eyes as she scanned the surroundings. It was an understatement, thought Janeway, also looking around. They had emerged onto a crunchy blanket of snow, facing a breathtaking scene of blue sky with white land stretching out below them as far as the eye could see. Before them was a track through the snow, flanked by wooden posts serving as markers. Without replying, Janeway struck out along the path.

It was a typical Alpine village, pretty wooden buildings scattered along winding streets. The old church, a relic from Earth's religious times, stood in the centre, restored to its original condition. Here and there were signs of twenty-third century society – a well-camouflaged transporter terminal, bio-engineered trees, but to Janeway the scene could have come straight from the twentieth century. Both women stood in silence; Seven waiting for her Captain to speak, Janeway expecting the forthright ex-Borg to suggest a course of action. Neither was necessary, for out of a nearby building, one of the squat cabin-like structures, emerged a woman, smiling as she approached.

"Guten Abend!"she cried, gesturing them over and beaming at Seven and Janeway in turn. Seeing their bemused expressions, she continued in English. 'Nice touch, Chakotay,' thought Janeway wryly.

"Welcome, welcome! Please follow me, and I will show you to your rooms. Dinner will be ready for you in one hour. I am Frau Kessler, please call me Ida. Come this way."

The woman was so bubbly that Janeway had to smile, her first genuine smile of the day, possibly the month. As they followed, their friendly host chattered away, informing them of the local services, the meal times, nearby entertainment and best places to visit. Janeway nodded as if in response, but in reality her mind was elsewhere, far away from Germany, Earth, the Alpha Quadrant.

Their rooms were small but comfortable, linked by a joining door that could be bolted on either side. Janeway, alone for the moment, lay down across the spacious double bed. There was little room for other furniture, and so a small wardrobe and bedside table were the only other large items present. Not bothering to unpack, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax into the soft mattress.

In the adjacent room, Seven-of-Nine had explored every inch of her accommodation. 'Satisfactory, though crude,' was her judgment, yet she felt a tiny ball of anticipation growing with each passing minute. She glanced at the door that linked her room with the Captain's. Ten minutes had passed. Seven rose and crossed to the door, knocking softly. Hearing no reply, without hesitation, she eased the handle down and pushed. There was no resistance; the door was unbolted. Seven-of-Nine eased in and stepped softly up to the bed, where Janeway slept. Seven, unused to human politeness, grasped Janeway's shoulder and shook her gently awake.

**Part 4**

"Calm down, Lieutenant. There's no need to panic. It's an epidemic of food poisoning, nothing more – one little injection and you'll be fully recovered in an hour. Now lie down and wait your turn."

The Doctor turned to Neelix, who appeared shamefaced and pale. "I trust that your latest egg hunt will be the last?" he enquired sarcastically, and Neelix shuddered.

"Believe me, Doctor, if I'd known they'd cause this much trouble, I -"

"You never would have brought them on board. You say the same thing about everything you bring on board! If it's alright for the locals, then it's alright for us!"

"Exactly!" enthused the Talaxian, his whiskers twitching.

"No!" shouted the Doctor, "Absolutely not! Alien species possess completely different physiologies; what is simply food to them could prove fatal to humans, or Talaxians, and vice versa."

"I'm sorry, Doctor – I didn't know." Neelix was obviously agitated and disturbed, and although the Doctor's bedside manner was somewhat lacking he did possess a certain amount of empathy. He moved over to pat the Talaxian on the back.

"Not to worry, Mr. Neelix. No harm done, this time. All thirty-six crewmembers that you poisoned will recover perfectly well. Just remember – next time, ask me before feeding anything strange to the crew."

**Part 5**

Crisp, deep snow squashed underfoot as Janeway and Seven meandered through the tall pine trees to the East of the village. Neither had spoken to the other since they met their host – when Janeway awoke, Seven had led her wordlessly outside, stopping in order for Janeway to don her coat. Lights were dotted around, placed so that the night-time walker could see her immediate surroundings. The lights became sparser, and eventually the two women stopped. Janeway spoke softly, her voice deadened by the snow.

"Beautiful." It was a statement, not a question, and Seven looked enquiringly at her Captain.

"To what are you referring, Captain?"

"Everything, Seven. The snow, glistening. The sky, not quite dark. The trees, decorated with snow. You…"

In the semi-darkness, for a minute, nobody spoke. In fact, nobody spoke as Janeway circled her arm around Seven's waist. Nobody spoke as they walked slowly up the path back towards the hotel. Nobody spoke as the Captain stopped and placed her other arm on Seven's shoulder, leaning towards the blonde woman and touching her lips to Seven's cheek.

**Author's Note**

The overwhelming vote was for Janeway and Seven. Sorry to those people who wanted otherwise. I'll do a J/C or J/BT story if you want me to – just send a message, and if you'd like a particular theme, suggest it, but no promises. Most of all, please review this story. If you are a fellow writer, I will review your stuff if you will review mine!

Sam C.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Part 1**

Janeway pulled away, shocked. It had been years since she had kissed another person, yet the urge had overwhelmed her. She stood back, contemplating the beautiful, Nordic face that now mirrored her expression. The ice-blue eyes stared back at her, and Janeway took another step backwards, then turned quickly and strode off through the snow, heart pounding in her chest. This whole idea had been a mistake, she thought, her sturdy legs pumping, propelling her across unfamiliar terrain. Branches slapped at her face, their frozen surfaces occasionally drawing blood, and still she fled, away from a situation where her self-control had failed her.

Her friend watched her go, concerned more for Janeway's mental state than her physical well-being. In the holodeck one could not come to physical harm unless either the safety controls were disengaged or something untoward should happen to Voyager herself. Checking a nearby panel to make sure that the safeties were indeed on and functioning, Seven started after Janeway, her tracks easily followed, but then the ex-Borg paused, suddenly unsure. Would the Captain want to be pursued, or would she prefer to be left alone? Her cheeks colouring slightly with irritation – though she told herself it was from the cold – Seven brought her hand to her comm badge.

"Seven-of-Nine to-" The blonde hesitated. Whom should she call? Her first thought had been the Doctor, but he was likely to worry unduly, as was Chakotay who would probably storm the holodeck and carry Janeway back to sickbay hoisted over his shoulders. Tuvok perhaps? At least there she could count on a rational, _logical_ response. "No!" she erupted in a furious whisper, clenching her slender fingers into fists. Then she remembered why she was here in the first place: she was not a member of Starfleet. Seven tapped her badge again.

"Seven-of-Nine to Neelix."

"Hello, Seven – run out of supplies already? I'm whipping up a batch of steak and kidney pies, something, you know, familiar, what with the eggs and everything." Seven was certain she heard the little Talaxian shudder, though she supposed he could just be whisking something. "So, how's it going? Are you enjoying your little trip so far?" he continued with a chirpiness he always seemed to possess whilst working in the kitchen.

"It is going…less well than I anticipated. May I speak with you for a moment?"

"Ah, well, fine, I'll just finish up here and aaaaarrr-"

Seven-of-Nine coolly initiated the site-to-site transport she had programmed during Neelix's ramblings, and the apron-clad furball materialised mid-shriek.

"rrrgggggh! Seven! I'm sure this is urgent, but really, that wasn't nice at all! I do have legs, you know." His tone was injured, and though Seven still lacked many human traits she was not deliberately hurtful.

"I apologise. I will return you to your duties shortly; however I wanted to discuss an occurrence with you. It concerns the Captain's wellbeing."

Neelix's pout was replaced by a worried frown. He placed a hairy arm on Seven's shoulder, which she glared at until it was hastily removed. "Well, that's different then. When did this occurrence, er, occur?" asked the chef, blinking up at the tall woman.

Seven explained succinctly, giving just the facts with no associated feelings, suppositions or suggestions, and Neelix listened intently. It was frequently difficult to shut him up but, Seven had to admit, if you asked him for help – particularly when it involved Captain Janeway – you couldn't ask for a more willing soul. He hardly paused after Seven had finished, speaking impulsively but with understanding.

"I think I see the problem, Seven. You see, the Captain is – above the rest of us, sort of detached. She has to be, otherwise she wouldn't be a good Captain, it would be too personal to her. Now, if she's feeling closer to someone – you – then Captain Janeway is probably worried that it might affect her performance of her duties." Neelix smiled and patted Seven on the arm again with a meaty paw. "Go back to your hotel, Seven. You know, the Captain's probably there already, waiting for you."

Seven nodded and thanked the Talaxian. After she had beamed him back to the warmth of the kitchen, she began walking back towards the village, tiny flakes of snow melting when they collided with her exposed cheeks. She shivered, an unfamiliar feeling for on Voyager, as aboard a Borg vessel, the temperature was controlled by environmental systems. Pulling up the collar of her coat so that it shielded another inch of skin, Seven hurried on, never pausing to consider her own feelings about the turn of events. The thoughts of her first kiss were pushed out of her mind, tossed out like confetti to make way for her consideration of how her Captain was feeling.

**Part 2**

If Janeway had been the swearing type, the four-letter words (and some choice five- and six-letter ones too) would be flowing like lava from Krakatoa. However, she settled for somewhat cleaner language, more befitting a Starfleet Captain, during her solitary mutterings. The handsome woman sat on a fallen log, first brushing off the layer of powdery snow with her gloved hands. In the forest, the darkness was now almost total, with just the gleam of a half-moon and the distant village lights to break up the night. Janeway wasn't worried; always in the back of her mind was the knowledge that she was on Voyager, in the holodeck. It both soothed and irritated her, for although she knew that she was safe, there was no real sense of adventure, of 'getting away from it'. Janeway let her head fall into her arms and, not knowing or even questioning why, she cried.

**Part 3**

"Commander Chakotay to the bridge." Harry Kim called over the communications system. He was in command of the bridge, the evening duty shift having just begun. As the most senior officer present – in fact the only officer on the bridge that evening – he hated calling for help, but the sensor readings were puzzling and somewhat worrying. After surreptitiously calling Tom Paris from the briefing room, taking him away from a pool game, and asking his advice, Harry came to the galling conclusion that, despite his personal annoyance, someone else should be called.

"On my way," replied the First Officer. "This better be good, Harry, or you've got the day shift too."

Recognising the joke for what it was in spite of Chakotay's irritated tone, Harry laughed. "Any time, Sir," he replied as he turned again towards the viewscreen. There was nothing there, just stars and space, same as always, yet the sensors told a different story. According to the readings, there should be a whole star system on the viewscreen, one star and four planets, eight planetoids, many moons and a multitude of asteroids. One planet and two of its moons should be inhabited, according to the sensors which showed many life signs and some energy sources large enough to power civilisations – small ones, anyway. Kim turned to the crewmember manning the science station.

"Are the sensors malfunctioning, crewman?"

The dark-haired young woman shook her head timidly. "No, Sir. I ran a diagnostic – they're working perfectly." She looked worried, and Harry smiled.

"Thank you. So," he continued, again facing the viewscreen which still showed nothing out of the ordinary, "is it there or not?" Nobody answered. Several minutes passed with no change. Suddenly, an alarm sounded from several consoles.

"Ah, Sir? We're on a collision course for the inhabited planet. Fifty thousand kilometres…forty thousand kilometres…"

The screen remained obstinately blank. For a moment Harry hesitated, then prudence took over.

"All stop," ordered the young ensign, and the helmsman obeyed. The engines powered down to a barely audible hum and Voyager held her position in space, seemingly light years from anywhere. The bridge crew waited, mostly young crewmen, fidgeting excitedly at the thought of witnessing a new phenomenon. Kim tapped his fingers on the arm of the command chair. Breaking the tension that hung in the air, the turbolift doors swished open.

"Report," ordered Chakotay, striding onto the bridge, instantly regaining command. Despite having been off duty his uniform was neatly pressed and he appeared rested and alert. Harry turned to the First Officer.

"Sir, the sensors indicate that we are just thousands of kilometres from an inhabited planet, in the midst of a star system, but-" he waved his arm towards the viewscreen "there's nothing here. A sensor diagnostic came up normal, but we're reading life signs – tens of thousands of them – on the planet and its moons."

Chakotay settled into a chair next Kim, who made to rise from the Captain's chair but was waved back into his seat. He turned to the ensign. "What would you suggest we do next, Harry?"

It felt like a test, and Harry thought carefully. Eventually, he spoke. "We should send a probe," he said decisively. "Closer to where the sensors say the planet should be. Maybe directed towards the energy sources we're picking up."

Chakotay grinned. "My thoughts exactly, ensign. Bridge to engineering."

"Torres here." The reply sounded tetchy, and the Commander couldn't resist a little banter.

"You're working late, Lieutenant. Building another shuttlecraft, or is Tom busy tonight?"

"The Delta Flyer keeps me busy enough, _Commander_," she replied archly, and Chakotay could imagine the expression on her Klingon features. "Can I help you?"

"We're getting some odd sensor readings that don't fit with what we're seeing out of the window. I want a Class 2 probe ready as soon as possible."

"Give me ten minutes, Commander. Should I rouse the troops, just in case?"

"Not yet, B'Elanna. At the moment we're just looking at some odd readings; there doesn't appear to be any threat to the ship. Let me know when the probe is ready."

"Acknowledged. Torres out."

**Part 4**

Seven-of-Nine was perched on the edge of her hotel bed. The crisp, white sheets showed barely a dimple, so still was the blonde Borg sitting. In the far corner, the door connecting her room to Janeway's stood open, and only now was Seven hearing noises from the other side. A door opening then closing. Light footsteps padding across the room. The creak of a hinge, water running and splashing. She waited.

"Seven?"

She waited further, heart beating faster on realising that her companion had returned.

"Seven? Are you there?" Janeway's tone was tentative, yet her ruddy face appeared around the doorway. Janeway broke into a small smile when she saw her friend. "I – I'm sorry, for how I reacted." Janeway entered the room and walked slowly across to where Seven sat, rigid. "Seven, it's – I…" Her voice tailed off as she lowered herself down next to the blonde. They sat in mutual silence, neither wanting to speak. It was Seven who finally broke the tension, surprising the Captain.

"Why did you leave?"

It was a simple question, yet the answer was anything but simple. Janeway sensed the hurt behind the matter-of-fact tone and a pang of self-recrimination shot through her heart. She was torn between a believable, straightforward reply and the complicated truth, and settled for something in between.

"I'm not sure. I've never…done that before. Not with a member of my crew, anyway. I guess I was…surprised." Janeway took a long, deep breath. "I care about you, Seven. A lot. Not more than the rest of the crew, but in a different way. I took you in, I followed your progress, watched you learn-"

"As you did with the newest crewmen and officers." Seven's biting tone cut through Janeway's explanation. The Captain knew how it sounded, like an excuse after an explanation bordering on the pathetic.

An outside observer would see this: Two women, sitting not a foot apart yet light years away in spirit, both aching to be nearer to the other, yet neither knowing how to achieve that. Their bodies were pointed to each other, arms reached out but not quite touching, and the nonexistent observer would be shouting out. It was obvious, now and since they had known each other, that they were _meant_ to be together. It showed in their gestures, in their voices and words, in the way they stood and moved in response to each other. Both women knew that – Janeway in a real sense, Seven-of-Nine less consciously, but as they inched closer together during the silence, the imagined observer would know.

**Author's Note**

Thank you all for reading so far. I will continue until the story is finished, but it took an unexpected turn with the scene on the bridge. I don't know what will happen!

I love reading your reviews; they brighten up my days, so please write more! Tell me what you think of the story so far, if you like my language and phrasing, if you want me to do anything differently and what is your favourite chapter.

Cheers folks,

Sam.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**Part 1**

"Emergency Medical Hologram to Chakotay." The Doctor's tone was one of controlled urgency which attracted the First Officer's attention despite the ongoing mystery of the invisible star system, which still appeared on sensors as an inhabited planet and moons, an advanced civilisation with energy sources and warp signatures and life signs that were humanoid in nature and very much alive.

"Yes, Doctor, what is it?" replied the Commander.

"I need to speak with you urgently. Can you come to sick bay?"

Chakotay shrugged to himself. He was waiting for B'Elanna to complete modifications to the probe they were intending to deploy, and was for the moment unoccupied. All speculation and discussion about the anomaly had dried up, and nothing more could be done until a probe was launched. "On my way."

He made his way through the ship, meeting with other crew members only infrequently, for the night shift was a skeleton crew, keeping the ship's systems ticking over until the day shift began or was called out in the event of an emergency. The corridors were peaceful, and the few personnel he did encounter stopped their work to exchange a few words, obviously pleased at the presence of the First Officer and delighted at the opportunity for conversation. Chakotay made a mental note to review the assignments of the night crew, to recognise the essential job they do on board Voyager.

The doors to sick bay swished open, and immediately the Doctor was speaking. "The so-called food poisoning, Commander. It appears to be more serious than I first thought. Twenty-three of the thirty-six people who were ill have developed secondary symptoms, and four of them are now in a critical condition."

Chakotay didn't know what to ask first. It was usually Janeway who dealt with the Doctor when a medical emergency arose, and he struggled to find the right question. The hologram, however, took Chakotay's pause as an invitation to continue.

"The twenty-three have progressed from vomiting and diarrhoea to full-blown fever, with some swelling of the digestive organs. I have sedated them and have them on a constant supply of fluids, which is keeping them stable for now. As there is no room here, they are being treated in their quarters."

"And the critical cases?" interjected Chakotay, glancing around at the occupied biobeds. His heart skipped when he noticed Tom Paris, along with another officer and two crewmen who worked in engineering.

The Doctor turned to look at his patients, his expression more worried than Chakotay had seen in a long time. He didn't speak for almost a minute, and when he did it was in a low voice which chilled the First Officer to the bone. "They're dying, Commander. And I don't know why."

The hologram walked over to the prone form of Tom Paris and tenderly patted his arm as he checked the biobed display. "It's not a virus, bacterium or parasite, or at least not one that is anything like what we've seen before. Microscopic scans, genetic analysis, biochemical tests all show up normal apart from an elevated temperature and increased white blood cell count. All of the sick crewmembers ate the reptile eggs that Mr. Neelix brought on board, and they were the only ones to do so, with the exception of Mr. Neelix himself who remains healthy despite eating large quantities of them"

"So only people who ate the eggs are sick, but Neelix ate them and isn't sick?"

The Doctor nodded tightly. Chakotay thought for a minute, options being formed then rejected immediately. He was not a medical man, Voyager's EMH was their best hope for a solution, and every moment the Doctor spent talking to him was a moment away from studying the disease and caring for his patients. "Keep me informed. There's a…situation on the bridge, too. We've got some strange sensor readings that don't match what we can see out of the window." He glanced once again at his officers and crewmen before nodding briefly to the Chief Medical Officer and striding to the doors.

**Part 2**

Janeway slept again, deeply and undisturbed. Seven-of-Nine watched from the next room, seeing the regular rise and fall of her Captain's chest and the peaceful expression she wore whilst in slumber. Those thin lines around the older woman's face disappeared, leaving handsome, younger-looking features that Seven couldn't stop studying. As a Borg she had lived in a collective, with a shared consciousness and a link to all other drones on the Borg cube, yet being so close to just this one person was somehow more difficult. With reluctance, the young woman rose and closed the door which connected the two rooms, putting the sleeping Captain out of sight.

At the sound of the heavy, wooden door closing, Janeway awoke. Immediately, she sat upright, alert. "Lights," she murmured, and pulled a wry grin when there was no response. Carefully she climbed out of bed and padded across to the main door, next to which there was an archaic switch that controlled the lights. Janeway flicked it on then moved back to sit on the edge of the bed. Before she had turned the light on she had noted the tiny sliver of light shining underneath the connecting door to Seven-of-Nine's room, but though she listened intently Janeway could hear no sounds from the Borg's room. Voyager's Captain sat quietly. She felt…on edge, worried, which worried her more because there was no reason for her to feel this way. The ship was in Chakotay's capable hands, she'd been away less than twelve hours, what could possibly be wrong? Janeway forced a smile, but even as she did so she rose, approached the door to Seven's room and knocked softly.

**Part 3**

As Chakotay re-entered the bridge, he realised that word must have spread regarding the strange readings. He was intending to rouse the remaining senior officers anyway, but found Tuvok already at his station. As he looked around, it came to him that everyone who could be called was now on duty, given that Tom Paris was in sick bay and the Captain and Seven were on the holodeck. The First Officer turned to Tuvok, who stood in his customary position at tactical.

"Tuvok, I think it's time we called the Captain and Seven back. There is an unknown sickness hitting a number of personnel, two officers and two crewmen in a critical condition and a hell of a lot of strange sensor readings. In my opinion, Voyager needs her Captain."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, then nodded slowly. "I concur. However, it is not my decision to make. The Doctor must be consulted and give his permission. I do not believe he would refuse, given the seriousness of the medical emergency."

"You're right. Chakotay to the Doctor."

"Make it quick, Commander," replied the hologram, and Chakotay did just that.

"I want Janeway back on the bridge, now, and Seven-of-Nine too. Is that a problem for you?" There was a significant pause, during which Chakotay didn't move a muscle. He felt, for perhaps the first time on board Voyager, that he could not deal with the crisis alone. The seconds dragged on before the Chief Medical Officer finally answered.

"Ordinarily, the answer would be yes. Even now I have some reluctance, but you are right, we need Captain Janeway. We will deal with the consequences after we get through this…whatever it is. Call her back, Commander, you have my permission."

The First Officer exhaled slowly and refilled his lungs twice more before tapping his comm badge once again.

**Part 4**

Hearing no response from the ex-Borg, Janeway carefully opened the door and peeked around it, expecting Seven-of-Nine to be asleep. As the door opened wider she realised that was not the case. The slender form was sitting on one side of the bed, bent over. Seven cradled her head in her hands, through which several locks of fine, blond hair cascaded. Janeway was immediately concerned, and, all attempts at stealth abandoned and completely forgetting she wore just a thin nightgown, she quickly crossed the room.

"Seven? What's the matter, are you hurt? Seven? Talk to me?" Janeway demanded as she stood over the huddled form. A muffled sound came from behind the hands. "Seven?" she repeated more softly, sitting next to the younger woman and wrapping one arm around the trembling shoulders, pulling Seven-of-Nine into her and holding her tightly. The shaking subsided and Janeway smoothed the blonde hair with one hand, waiting. Eventually, Seven spoke, and though her voice was still a little shaky it was clear that her friend had regained her composure. Janeway let go and edged back a few inches to give the Borg some room. When the head lifted, Seven's pale features were streaked with tears, and the Captain's heart skipped a beat, so startled that she almost reached out and hugged the younger woman tightly once again.

"I'm fine, Captain. I was…I cannot explain what happened. I was feeling – different. When I sat down and attempted to compose myself, I began to…my eyes began to produce tears. It was most irritating." Seven's blue eyes flashed, daring Janeway to contradict her. The moment of tenderness had passed, and it was not without regret that Janeway nodded briskly and turned to leave.

"Glad to see that you're ok, Seven. Let's get some rest and start fresh tomorrow, agreed?"

"Agreed."

Janeway was reaching out her hand towards the door when the holodeck comm system beeped. "Chakotay to Captain Janeway, please respond." In an uncharacteristic show of irritation, the Captain lashed out forcefully at the door with her fist, a cry escaping as she struck the door with such force that the wood, and Janeway's hand, cracked on impact. Seven was next to the Captain in an instant, catching her as dizziness and intense pain caused the older woman to lose her balance. The blonde carried her Captain easily to the bed, where a groggy Janeway perched, held firmly in Seven's strong arms.

"Captain? What was that?" Chakotay's tone was more confused than concerned, indicating that he hadn't guessed the cause of the noises, and Janeway managed to shoot a warning glance at her companion who remained stony-faced.

"Nothing, Commander, everything's fine here. It's a little late for you to be on duty, is everything alright on your end?" Her hand throbbed, even the slightest movement sending searing needles of pain through her hand and wrist, and when she accidentally tried to raise her hand in an unconscious gesture, her vision went grey once more. The warmth of Seven's skin against hers felt soothing, and Janeway felt herself losing consciousness, her head falling against the younger woman's chest. The Captain did not hear her First Officer's next words.

"The Doctor has authorised me to recall you to duty, Captain. We have a medical crisis on board, Tom Paris is one of the affected personnel, and-"

"Is the Captain at risk?" demanded Seven-of-Nine, interrupting with customary bluntness.

"We don't believe so, Seven, and neither are you. It appears to be affecting only those who ate the eggs Mr. Neelix collected during the recent away mission. But there's more, Captain. I need both of you."

"Acknowledged," replied the Borg curtly, and cut the communication before the Commander had time to realise that the Captain herself had not ended the conversation. Seven cradled the limp form of her Captain, thinking. There was obviously no time to lose, and there was no question that Janeway required medical attention.

"Computer, activate site-to-site transport to sick bay for myself and Captain Janeway, authorisation Seven-of-Nine beta four. Energise."

**Part 5**

The pair materialised in sick bay, where a glance showed Seven that things were indeed serious. The Doctor was bending over one of several occupied biobeds, a medical tricorder in one hand, the other holding a hypo spray. He was facing away from them, and quickly Seven carried the Captain to an examination table and laid her gently down, placing a clean towel under her head as a pillow. From Janeway's lips came a soft murmur, a sign that she was regaining consciousness. Seven stroked the older woman's cheek briefly yet with a tenderness many thought she would not be capable of. The intimacy was broken spectacularly with the appearance of the Doctor at Seven's elbow.

"What happened to the Captain?" he roared, turning to Seven-of-Nine whose only reaction to the irate hologram's fury was to blink whilst she waited for the Doctor's anger to subside. As always, his priority was the patient, and so the temper was pushed aside as he turned to Janeway and scanned her quickly. When he faced the Borg again, the anger was gone.

"Fractured fourth and fifth metacarpals and a cracked radius. I'll repair the damage now and save the questions, such as how did this happen and why didn't you call me earlier, until later. You are needed on the bridge. Captain Janeway will follow shortly, after I treat her and replicate a uniform," he finished pointedly. Seven nodded, glanced at Janeway briefly, then left. The hologram turned back to Janeway and touched her uninjured arm. "I can repair the physical damage, Captain," he murmured to the inert form. "The rest is up to you."


	8. Chapter 8

A Better Birthday than Most – Chapter 8

**Part 1**

Entering the turbolift, Seven-of-Nine showed no sign of the anxiety she was feeling. Her voice and hands were steady and her mind clear despite her worry over the Captain and the deep-down knowledge, constantly gnawing away at her fragile conscience, that she was to blame – both for her friend's precarious state of mind and for not preventing Janeway from doing herself harm.

"Deck 1," she ordered in a clipped, no-nonsense tone that mirrored her nascent personality. Enslaved by the Borg for most of her childhood and all of her adult life until rescued by Janeway, she was only now beginning to develop as an individual, but slowly her own characteristics, those of the girl she once was, were starting to surface.

The turbolift decelerated as it approached the Bridge, and Seven mustered a steely expression, one that would take no nonsense, as she exited through the sliding doors. Immediately on hearing her entry, Voyager's First Officer began to update Seven on the current situation. On hearing the description of the mysterious invisible star system and strange life-sign readings, she held up a hand to stop Chakotay mid-briefing.

"Commander, it is imperative that you listen to me. We must reverse course at once and leave this area."

"But, Seven, what about the –"

"Please trust me, Commander. The Borg has experienced this type of phenomenon before. The more time you delay, the more Voyager is in danger."

Seven's ice-blue eyes bore into Chakotay's with a fierce intensity that would have convinced him even had her words not been so forceful. He turned to an ensign who was seated in Paris's customary position at the helm. "Helmsman, set reverse course, Warp six. Engage." Chakotay turned back to Seven-of-Nine and smiled. "Happy, Seven?"

Her answer startled him. "No, Commander. Maximum speed is necessary, and even that may not be enough."

The Commander turned to the helmsman again. "You heard her, ensign. Warp nine. There'd better be a good explanation, Seven. We don't exactly have deuterium to spare on full-out sprints. Will you join me in the Captain's Ready Room?"

The ex-Borg inclined her head and strode in front of Chakotay, who followed with resigned irritation. "Tuvok, you have the – what was that?" His routine statement was broken off as Voyager was rocked violently. "Harry, report!"

"I'm not sure, Sir, it's a plasma weapon of some sort, but I don't know who's firing it."

"Raise shields. Return fire!"

"No effect!"

Helm?" Chakotay's tone was urgent and demanding, but the young ensign could not add to the information.

"Sorry, Commander, I'm not reading any vessels in the area."

The ship was hit again, more intensely, and the bridge crew hung on as the floor shook and lurched sideways. Chakotay grasped a shocked-looking Seven-of-Nine by the shoulders and spoke loudly. "Seven, you know something about this. What should we do?" The woman didn't respond but continued to stare towards the viewscreen, her expression one of dread, which caused Chakotay's blood to run cold. Anything that could scare a Borg was not something he ever wanted to see. "Seven, snap out of it! Help us!" Suddenly, the young Borg came back to the moment.

"Fire a composite plasma-thoron beam directly aft, ratio 30:70, then detonate a full spread of photon torpedoes in our wake."

"Tuvok, do it!" shouted Chakotay, as Voyager took another damaging hit and warning beeps sounded. The bridge lights were extinguished and the emergency lights which replaced them flickered, along with several small fires that had sprung up at various stations.

"Firing now," stated Tuvok. Chakotay was glad to hear the calm, measured tone as he waited. A lesser jolt rocked the ship again, then all was quiet. He breathed an un-first-officer-like sigh of relief.

"Well done, Seven. Harry, we still have warp drive, I take it?"

"Yes, Sir, but it looks like pretty much everything else is fried." The young officer grimaced.

"Harry, can you give me a, ah, more detailed damage report?"

Harry Kim was dirty and dishevelled after wielding a fire extinguisher to put out the minor conflagration that had erupted at his console, but he tapped at the buttons confidently. "Yes, Commander. Twelve casualties reported, none life-threatening. Damage reported on four decks, repair crews are attending. No significant structural damage. Sensors, weapons and shields have been seriously affected, but propulsion remains intact. Mr. Neelix's favourite omelette pan has suffered a fatal dent."

Chakotay smiled. "Keep me informed regarding the repairs. Chakotay to all senior officers. Briefing in thirty minutes. Bring any data available regarding the attack. Chakotay out."

As he signed off one communication, another began. "Doctor to Commander Chakotay."

"What is it, Doctor?"

"I need Seven-of-Nine to come to sickbay right away. I believe I have found a possible treatment for the sickness, but I need a sample of nanoprobes."

"I need Seven up here, Doctor, it'll have to wait. Chakotay out –"

"No, Commander, I'm afraid this cannot wait. If I do not get those nanoprobes immediately, several crew members could die, including Mr. Paris!"

The First Officer nodded to Seven-of-Nine, who left quickly. "She's on her way, Doctor. Send her back as soon as you've extracted the nanoprobes."

"Yes, Commander," replied the Emergency Medical Hologram. "Oh, and Captain Janeway will be released shortly. Look after her." Usually sarcastic, often flippant, the Doctor's tone was this time was brief and deadly serious.

**Part 2**

Seven-of-Nine had only just returned to Deck 1 after stopping off at astrometrics to collect sensor data collected during the past twenty-four hours, and she was in conversation with Harry Kim when the turbolift doors swished open.

"Captain on the bridge," announced Tuvok as Janeway stepped out of the turbolift. Chakotay turned and smiled, studying his commanding officer. Her features, though set in an unreadable mask, were pale, intensifying the dark circles around her eyes. The uniform she wore was clean and crisp, but Janeway herself appeared diminished.

"Good to see you, Captain," greeted the Commander, smiling warmly. He meant it, for even a seriously under par Janeway was better than nothing. The crew responded to her unlike they did for anyone else, himself included, and even a brief appearance on the bridge was enough to buoy their spirits in the face of danger.

"Likewise, Commander," she replied, though her flat tone did not match the words. "I'll be in my Ready Room. Seven, join me?" Without waiting for a reply, she disappeared through the adjoining door. Seven and Chakotay exchanged glances.

"I assume that you will brief the Captain on what has happened, Seven?"

The Borg nodded in reply, but as she made to follow Janeway, the large man put out a hand to stop her. "We need the Captain on this, Seven, I think you know that. Talk to her, listen to her, do whatever you can to get her back to normal as much as possible, or Voyager will be even more at risk. Do you understand?"

Seven-of-Nine stood perfectly still for a moment, her gaze meeting Chakotay's determined eyes. Inclining her head once again, she pulled away, then turned back. "I will…do my best," she said quietly, and Chakotay thought he detected a choke. He watched as the young woman entered the Ready Room where the Captain waited.

Seven did not pause at the doors, as was customary, but entered without hesitation. They slid shut behind her, cutting off the noise and activity that was always present on the bridge and enveloping her senses in an atmosphere of calm and quiet. She saw Janeway sitting on the seat that ran under the windows, her back turned as she looked out into space. Approaching softly, Seven drew close then stopped, waiting for the Captain to speak. Without turning, Janeway did so.

"It seems we have a problem, Seven."

The Borg waited again, but nothing else came. She stood straight, hands behind her back as she so often did. Normally she preferred to stand, and indeed actively disliked sitting, but this time it felt wrong as she looked down at her friend who seemed somehow smaller than usual. Taking a half-step forward, Seven replied. "Yes, Captain. I believe the attack originated from –"

Janeway lifted a hand briefly, stopping Seven mid-sentence, then allowed her hand to fall to her knee. Slowly, almost as though she were being pulled against her will by an unknown force, Janeway turned away from the window and her eyes met Seven's, grey-blue meeting ice-blue and locking together. The younger woman felt a tingle run down her spine, causing her shoulders to shudder for a fraction of a second.

"Save it for the briefing, Seven. The other officers will want to hear what you have to say. I wasn't talking about the attack; I was…talking about us."

Seven was confused and still shaking with the connection that Janeway had forged, staring intently at her with an intensity that was both exciting and frightening. "Us, Captain?"

"Our relationship, or, precisely, our lack of one. I think we both want the same thing, feel the same feelings, but neither us can say it easily – me because I'm a Starfleet Captain, and you being what you are. But I'm saying it now, Seven. I love you," finished Janeway simply, and she turned away again, quickly this time so that the younger woman would not see the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

Taking another step forward, Seven-of-Nine was now within touching distance of her Captain, but she stood upright still, tipping her head forward to gaze down on Janeway who rested her head against the back of the seat. She struggled to force words through her lips. "May I sit down?" she whispered, detecting an almost imperceptible nod from the older woman. Carefully, Seven settled next to the small form and placed a tentative hand on Janeway's shoulder, feeling the hot clamminess of Janeway's skin even through the fabric of her uniform. The Captain was ill, that much was evident, and that realisation took priority over whatever else she had been intending to say.

Seven reached out and wrapped her arms around Janeway, one around her shoulders and the other encircling her trim waist. The Captain was hot, burning up with a sudden, acute fever, and she felt limp in Seven's arms. She did not protest when the strong Borg drew her to her feet.

"Captain, you must return to sickbay. You have a fever. I suspect you may have contracted the sickness." She started to half-carry, half-drag Janeway towards the doors, but stopped as her Captain sagged to the floor. Seven knelt beside her, their bodies touching as she supported her sick friend. Realising that Janeway was in no state to travel down five decks and across half the length of the ship, Seven-of-Nine once again used her authorisation to transport them both to sickbay. After a brief yet heartening conversation with the optimistic Chief Medical Officer, Seven yet again returned to Deck 1, where the briefing was about to start.

**Part 3**

"Ok, Seven, what do you know?" The situation was urgent, and the Commander got straight down to business. The assembled officers listened intently as the ex-Borg began.

"I believe the false sensor readings and the attack are connected, and that both were caused by the actions of a species who call themselves the Order of Kovrehon, or simply the Order."

"What, no Species Number, Seven?" B'Elanna Torres cut in icily, earning herself a withering look.

"The Borg attempted to assimilate this species on several occasions approximately three hundred years ago without success. The Order have used their considerable intelligence and technological aptitude almost exclusively in the development of weapons and other systems necessary for warfare, such as propulsion and cloaking technology. They are highly aggressive and extremely dangerous –"

"Maybe they were just protecting themselves against the Borg," suggested Harry Kim, eliciting several nods from around the table. "You can't blame them for that."

"I agree," spoke Chakotay, "however they attacked Voyager without warning, and probably would have destroyed her if it weren't for Seven's quick thinking. Carry on, Seven." All eyes rested on the young woman once again.

"The Order has developed sophisticated weapons of which even the Borg are cautious. Curiously, the territory they occupy is relatively small for such a potent aggressor. They seem content to lie in wait, drawing others to them and then attacking for no apparent reason. They do not take captives or steal cargo, nor do they assimilate technology."

Chakotay sat back in his chair, thinking. He glanced around the table at each officer in turn. "Thoughts?" he asked simply.

"I say we just keep going. If what Seven says is true," Torres continued, her stress on 'if', "then they won't pursue. Let's just get the hell out of their space."

"I agree, Commander," Harry put in. "Our ship is faster than anything we've seen so far in the Delta Quadrant –"

"Except for the Borg, Ensign. May I also inform you that the Order pursued and caught at least two Borg spheres and left little for the Collective to retrieve?"

"Oh." Kim's expression was crestfallen, and several people around the table shifted uncomfortably, all thinking the same thing. Chakotay voiced those thoughts.

"So we have this…Order, that attacks anything that comes close and is able to outrun and destroy Borg vessels. At least we know what we're dealing with. How come your plan worked against them during the attack, then?" he asked Seven-of-Nine, who regarded him coolly.

"We have one thing in our favour, Commander. Just as the Delta Quadrant technologies we have encountered have seemed alien to us, so is our technology different to anything they have seen before. It will take time before they adapt to our weapons and tactics. Perhaps this will persuade them to let us proceed without further confrontation, perhaps not."

"Right. Let's try and prepare as best we can. Torres, analyse their weapon's energy signature, see what you can come up with to modify the shields. Harry, I want you to work with Seven. Go through everything you remember about the Borg's encounters with the Order, look for patterns, tactics, any weaknesses we might be able to exploit. Neelix, you're going to contact everyone you know to find out more about the Order, see if anyone's ever had dealings with them that didn't end in a fight. Any questions?" Nobody spoke. "Dismissed."

The officers filed out, some already talking amongst themselves, other grimly silent, focused on the task ahead. The First Officer remained in his seat, waiting for the room to empty. When it had, he pressed a button on the screen in from of him. "Doctor, are you there?"

"Here, Commander. I heard the briefing, it all sounds dreadful. However, I do have some good news. I believe that modified nanoprobes can be used to treat the illness, which appears to be a very devious nano-parasite."

Chakotay's scientific and medical knowledge was limited, and his brow furrowed. "Nano-parasite? Like a really tiny worm?"

The Doctor tried not to show irritation with his senior officer. "In a way, yes. It is an extremely small parasite that would be hard enough to detect without its ingenious…camouflage. It disguises itself as one of the body's own white blood cells, then replicates to make new copies of itself. In doing this, it can completely take over the host's immune system, rendering it ineffective."

"So how can nanoprobes help?"

"Ah, that's the question. Borg nanoprobes can be programmed to recognise the real blood cells from the parasite's fake ones – I won't go into how – and so, provided the patient still has enough of their own immune system remaining, the nanoprobes destroy the parasite and the host should recover."

"And this works, Doctor?"

"Initial tests on one of the engineering crew have been successful. His condition is improved and stable. I am about to begin treating Mr. Paris and the other crewman, however I will require more nanoprobes before I can start work on the other patients."

"How many are there?" asked Chakotay. The Doctor hesitated briefly before answering.

"One life-threatening case. The remaining infected personnel are not severely affected and there will be ample time to treat them."

"I see. Treat Mr. Paris and the engineer, and I'll have Seven report to you for more nanoprobe extraction."

"Commander –" The Doctor stopped, then continued hesitantly. "The other case is Captain Janeway. She waited too long before coming in and she needs treatment now, but so do Lieutenant Paris and the crewman. My ethics tell me to treat the patients first in order of need, then, if all the needs are equal, in order of presentation. The Captain may die, Commander."

Damned doctors and their ethics, thought Chakotay angrily. It wasn't the first time medical dilemmas had caused problems aboard Voyager, but the consequences of this occasion could be more dangerous than anything they had seen so far. Making a decision as, presumably, acting Captain, he spoke again with the authority of command.

"Treat the Captain first, then Mr. Paris, then the engineer. That's an order."

"I can't do that, Commander. My program –"

"To hell with your programming, your ethics! Treat the Captain first, those are my orders. If you don't follow them I'll have you taken off line, and there isn't a crew member on board who wouldn't support me. We'll discuss it when I'm court-martialled. Have I made myself clear?"

"Abundantly, Commander. I will do as you say, for now. EMH out."

Leaning back in his chair, Chakotay's long sigh became a choked cry, knowing that he may have condemned a man unfairly to his death simply because he could not bear the thought of losing the Captain. Doubtless the right decision for Voyager, he wondered if he would be able to live with himself should the worst happen. He tapped his commbadge.

"Chakotay to Seven-of-Nine. Report to sickbay, on the double."


	9. Chapter 9

Captain Janeway recovered overnight, as the nanoprobes stalking through her system and obliterating the nanoparasite worked their tiny magic. Lieutenant Paris also recovered quickly, and both had returned to duty as soon as the Doctor had allowed them to leave sick bay. Both officers sat at the large table that took up most of the space in the briefing room, Tom drumming his fingers impatiently and humming to what Janeway correctly assumed was some best-forgotten 20th Century music that wasn't good when it was written and was even worse three centuries down the line. The Captain was about to suggest chopping Paris's fingers off when, mercifully, the rest of the senior officers arrived.

"Mr. Paris has brought me up to date whilst we were waiting," began Janeway, "so we need to focus on what's new since yesterday's briefing. Torres, let's start with you. What did you manage to find out about the weapon used on Voyager?"

The half-Klingon, half-human Chief Engineer held her hands out wide, palms upwards and shook her head frustratedly. "Nothing, Captain. I mean, I analysed the energy signature, or tried to. It wasn't like anything we've seen before. If they come after us with that again, well…" She spread her fingers and sat back, expecting a less-than-happy comment from Janeway, but the older woman merely nodded.

"Thank you, B'Elanna. I'm sure you did what you could. I'd like you and Harry to work on it some more, see if you can find out anything else. Seven, what did you and Harry come up with?"

The Borg met Janeway's eyes with a cool stare, professional, calm with no hint of tension or insolence. Janeway stared back, not feeling a tenth as calm herself but refusing to yield in this locking of gazes. Eventually Seven-of-Nine glanced down at a PADD she was holding. "We too could find very little information, Captain. Reported battles between this species and others are without exception short and one-sided, including conflicts with Borg vessels. According to my research the Order has never sought confrontation with a large Borg vessel, but that is not to say that the outcome would be different."

"Was there anything at all that we can use?"

Harry Kim cleared his throat and began to speak. The most junior – or least senior – officer there, he brought new ideas and an enthusiasm not always demonstrated by the older personnel. "I analysed all the information I can find regarding confrontations with the Order. Usually they go like this; a ship passing by sees odd sensor readings and approaches to investigate, then wham!-"

"Wham?" Paris cut in with a playful tone.

"Sorry, Captain. The ship is attacked, quickly and without warning, by a strange weapon from an unidentified source, and either disabled or destroyed. Some managed to send a distress call; others appear to have simply…vanished."

Janeway steepled her fingers under her chin and nodded again. "Sounds pretty much like what happened to us. If it weren't for Seven, I doubt we'd be here discussing it now. Ok, so how far are we from the system now?"

"Eight light years, Captain," answered Chakotay.

"And how far does this…Order's territory extend?"

"That is uncertain, however vessels have been attacked previously within a twenty light-year distance."

"So we're not out of the woods yet. Tom, take the helm, keep us on course and maintain maximum speed. Torres, Harry, get back to engineering, take another look at the weapon's signature. Seven-"

"Ah, Captain, may I say something?" Neelix interjected politely but with insistence, and Janeway caught a nuance in his tone that was slightly reproving, which she admitted she probably deserved for forgetting about the chirpy Talaxian.

"Of course, Neelix, go ahead."

In his blustery, verbose manner, he did so. "Well, Captain, the Commander asked me to contact my, er, contacts, find out what I could about the Order. As others have noted there is an astonishing lack of information out there, very little about their culture, laws, history -"

Janeway put up a hand, stopping the furry man mid-sentence. "Please, Mr. Neelix, can we get to what you DO know?"

"Certainly, Captain, I was just coming to that." His tone was brisk and slightly miffed, and Janeway made a mental note to smooth his feathers after the crisis was over. "A fellow trader told me – for quite a hefty price I might add – that he had once met with an individual from a species known as the Hendar who claimed to be an historian. It was in a bar, drinks flowing as they do, and the man got quite chatty. Apparently he mentioned the Order several times."

Janeway's patience was hanging by a thread, a very thin thread that was fraying at several points. Clenching her teeth, and attempting to smile, she waved at Neelix to continue.

"It seems that, a couple of centuries ago, there was a conflict between the Hendar and the Order. The Hendar came off worse, but according to my source the Hendar gentleman said that they had employed a biological weapon as a last resort, that it was still highly classified."

"How did the historian find out about it?" asked Chakotay, interested now.

Neelix shrugged his round shoulders. "My friend didn't say. But he said it was a deadly weapon, which was introduced to water sources covertly by Hendar spies, and it would attack any species except, of course, the Hendar themselves."

Janeway turned to Chakotay, eyes bright like a puppy that has just spotted a new toy poking out from his owner's shopping bag. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"The parasite?"

"The parasite. Computer, open emergency medical holographic channel."

The doctor's face appeared on a monitor, and the scowl that had already been present deepened when he saw the assembled officers. "I see I wasn't informed of this briefing, Captain. Obviously, as a mere emergency medical hologram, my services weren't needed. Perhaps I should-"

"Sorry, Doctor. We may have found something useful. How long would it take to produce a large sample of modified nanoprobes?"

"Modified for what?" asked the Doctor, his irritation showing plainly. "Curing the common cold, repairing nanocircuitry, cooking beans?"

Janeway was not amused, and her tone was acerbic and short. "To cure the nanoparasite, Doctor. How soon can you have it ready?"

"I'm still treating the last of the affected crew, Captain, but I could spare some now if you wish."

"Excellent. I want three biohazard containers ready within the hour. Janeway out." She turned once again to the officers seated around the table. "We offer the cure in return for safe passage. Any objections?"

"Ah, Captain? I object." Tom Paris looked around as accusing stares came from several directions. "What? This…Order goes around tricking and murdering people, they attacked us without warning, and now we want to give them a cure for a disease they got because they picked on the Hendar? Sorry, Captain, but do we really want more of these murderous aliens around?"

"Tom's got a point. So we get safe passage – what about the next ship, and the one after that?" Chakotay was, as ever, the voice of reason. "I say we continue as we are, keeping the cure in reserve in case it becomes necessary." Murmurs of assent followed, and Janeway studied her first officer.

"Agreed," she finally stated in a low voice. "Dismissed."

There was a tense atmosphere all over Voyager as Janeway walked the corridors, stopping to talk with crewmembers that she passed. Her intention, at least what she told Chakotay, was to visit the main departments, but she found herself wandering aimlessly through the halls, avoiding places where people generally worked in large numbers. She passed by Engineering, sick bay, transporter rooms and the mess hall without entering any of them, finally – either by accident or design, she wasn't sure which – ending up at Astrometrics. Not even sure if Seven was there, she asked the computer.

"Seven-of-Nine is in Astrometrics." Taking a deep breath, Janeway walked in.

The young woman made no pretence of not hearing the Captain's entry, but turned immediately, that cool gaze again landing on Janeway who this time met it with a warm smile. The ex-Borg frowned slightly in response, as though unsure of a proper greeting, finally settling on her usual inclination of the head and directness of speech.

"Captain. I am working on a tactical plan should we encounter the Order again."

"Good. We need to prepare as much as possible." Seven noted the Captain's unusual paucity of words, and stared at her more intently. Janeway looked remarkably well for someone who was very recently seriously ill, and she sounded and appeared well-rested and relaxed. Only her words said differently. Janeway stepped towards the console, past Seven-of-Nine then turned so that she was behind the younger woman, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. Resisting the urge to turn round, Seven stiffened slightly at the touch. Janeway's hand felt warm, her caress gentle. The hand traced a path across the Borg's slender shoulders, skipping across the exposed skin at the back of her neck, causing Seven to gasp momentarily as her insides, certain parts in particular, did a somersault.

"Captain, I-"

"We never finished our conversation before, did we?" Janeway's voice was soft and low, her lips very close to Seven's ear. A shiver ran down the blonde's spine as, without thinking, she tilted her head upwards and backwards, brushing against Janeway's hair and forehead and bringing Janeway's lips to Seven's neck. They brushed the soft skin so lightly Seven wasn't certain there was contact. At the same time, the Captain's arms snaked around Seven's waist, pulling their bodies together. Janeway kissed Seven's neck again, this time harder, moving so that she could nuzzle Seven's ear. The feeling inside Seven was building, in a way that excited her but also scared her, and as Janeway continued her anxiety grew. Overwhelmed, she pulled away, but didn't turn to face the Captain.

"Captain, I am not ready for a physical relationship," she stuttered, her face flushed and her lungs pumping. She could almost feel the change in her internal chemistry as her body reacted to Janeway's touch, and the loss of control was new and frightening. "Please leave."

If Seven had turned at that moment, the look on Janeway's face would have crushed her. Confusion, uncertainty, desire and fear were all mixed into the older woman's expression. She too was breathing hard, cheeks flaming red from both arousal and embarrassment. For a moment she considered trying to explain, to reassure her young companion, but realised that for now, not leaving was not an option. Without a word she strode past Seven-of-Nine and exited the room, leaving behind a very shaken, tearful Borg.

Sorry it's taking so long to finish – shouldn't be more than another chapter or two. Thank you for reading this far, I hope you enjoy this latest instalment. Comments welcome!


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

**Part 1**

Voyager flew through space at high warp, propulsion being one of the few undamaged systems following their encounter with the mysterious, belligerent Order of Kevrehon. Repair crews swarmed over the ship, doing what they could to restore sensors, shields and weapons. They were priority, Janeway had made clear, unless life support itself were damaged. The crew would have to manage without replicators, transporters, holodecks and whatever else wasn't working. It wasn't the worst damage Voyager had suffered (having been destroyed on several occasions in alternate realities/timelines and beaten to hell several other times) but it sure wasn't good, thought Janeway as she toured the ship.

The Captain, aside from mucking in with repairs which quite frankly she didn't feel up to, was at a loose end. Unless an attack actually happened, or some other dire emergency arose, there was nothing for Janeway to do but wait and worry. Officers came and went with reports, to which she gave the merest semblance of attention, for she knew that the crew would be doing the best they could, as they always did. Idly, as she folded herself into a soft chair in the observation lounge, she wondered what would befall Voyager. Would they reach home? Would they be destroyed, captured, stranded? Would they be rescued by Starfleet, using some hitherto-undiscovered technology? Would it be not the current Voyager crew but their descendants, children and grandchildren who made it back to Earth?

Janeway allowed herself a wry smile. Aside from Ensign Wildman, and Tom and B'Elanna, no other crew members showed any signs of wanting children, though there were several relationships brewing, or so she had heard. It may come down to ordering the crew to procreate, which according to regulations was impossible. Convincing the crew of the need? More possible, though Janeway herself would have to set an example. She stared out of the window, the ship's warp field turning stars into white blurs. But with whom? Chakotay was the logical choice, her first officer, a good man with a kind heart. They could make a little future Captain. But that sort of thing isn't hereditary, Janeway told herself – they weren't royalty. Their son or daughter would have to study and train like everyone else. Who would decide what positions the next generation would hold?

Naomi Wildman was obviously gifted, probably a future Chief Engineer or First Officer. Torres and Paris's baby would be no doubt intelligent, feisty and possibly difficult, but in her was another future officer. Perhaps Harry and Megan Delaney -. Janeway stopped herself. There was little point dwelling on things that were out of her control. Sighing, she began to rise, when the doors swished open. Janeway closed her eyes. Seven, seeking her out to talk? Neelix, concerned about her morale? Wishing they would go away, Janeway faced the intruder and opened her eyes. Chakotay's inquiring face smiled back at her.

"Are you alright, Captain? It's unusual to find you here." His words were expected, but somehow reassuring, a first officer looking out for his captain. His brown eyes were friendly yet concerned. Janeway shook her head, wisps of hair coming loose from her hastily-formed bun.

"I don't know, Chakotay. I think so – I mean, physically I'm fine. And mentally too, really."

"But…?"

"But – Chakotay, can I talk to you? About something personal, I mean?"

Chakotay scooted forward on the seat and briefly covered Janeway's hand with his giant paw. "Kathryn, you can talk to me about anything. I'm your first officer, but more than that I'm your friend. Tell me what's on your mind."

The Captain looked away, a wetness gathering in the corners of her eyes. It wouldn't be the first time Chakotay had seen her cry, and in actual fact she had seen him in great distress too, but this was different, personal. She wasn't sure where to start, but tried anyway.

"It's about…Seven," began Janeway, faltering, not knowing how to continue. She gathered herself for a long moment. "She and I have become…close. Or at least, I thought we had."

Chakotay squeezed Janeway's hand reassuringly. "Go on," he said softly.

"I'm in love with her, Chakotay. I don't know when I realised, probably longer ago than I'm willing to admit. Her strength, her intelligence, her determination. She knows what she wants and demands it, even of me. Nobody else can do that, Chakotay, not even you."

Janeway sank into the seat, tears falling slowly down her pale cheeks. Voyager's first officer sat quietly, watching his friend. When it was clear that Janeway was not going to carry on, he started to talk.

"It's not a crime, Kathryn. It's not even a breach of protocol – Seven's not a member of Starfleet. What's wrong with pursuing a relationship with her?"

"Nothing. Or at least, it would be nothing if she actually felt the same way. I approached her in Astrometrics, tried to show her how I feel, and made a complete mess of it. She pulled away from me at about warp six. She doesn't want me, and it hurts. It hurts so much, Chakotay."

The large man hesitated for a second before reaching out to Janeway, pulling her into a comforting hug. "Shhh," he murmured, holding his Captain like a small child. "Everything will work out, Kathryn, I'm sure of it." He let go and met Janeway's eyes. "I – and quite a few other people – think that Seven cares about you very much. She's certainly the first to beat down my door if she thinks something's bothering you. The Doctor reports that she frequently asks how you are; Harry says she mentions you in conversation -"

"Conversation? Ha!"

Chakotay smiled. "Yes, conversation. Brief and to the point, but they have had some exchanges of opinion. She cares about you – just give her time. Hell, she's never had a relationship before, and certainly not a physical one. Remember how scared you were the first time? That's how she's feeling, even though she's a grown woman now. Would you like me to talk to her?"

Chakotay's offer was genuine, despite his terror that Janeway might actually say yes, for he had no idea how he might introduce such a conversation. Janeway shook her head carefully, her hair awry and cheeks stained. "No, but thank you. She must be talking to someone already. The Doctor, maybe?"

"Possibly. Or Neelix. What are you going to do?"

Janeway was still. Eventually she uttered a half-laugh, half sob, which turned into a genuine laugh as she realise how pathetic she sounded. "I don't know. Talk to her, after this business with the Order is over with. Do you think they'll come after us?"

Chakotay shrugged casually, a forced casualness that Janeway detected. "I don't know. We've gone this far; maybe they won't bother. And we always have the nanoprobes."

"Ah yes, the 'cure' that nobody thinks we should give to them. I'll tell you what, Chakotay. If it comes down to a choice between giving the damned Order the nanoprobes and losing Voyager, I won't lose any sleep over handing over the cure. Will you?"

"Maybe. It's your decision. I wish there were another way. But we're getting ahead of ourselves; we might not even be attacked. Let's see what happens, and in the meantime…"

"Yes?" asked Janeway, knowing what was coming. She wasn't surprised.

"Talk to Seven, Kathryn. Tell her exactly how you feel, ask her how she feels. And, if you can't do that – well, maybe you ought to talk to the Doctor and Neelix yourself. Promise me you'll try?"

Janeway nodded her assent. "I'll try. After we're done with the Order."

"Why not now? You're not busy, obviously, or you wouldn't be sitting moping in the observation lounge."

"I'm not moping!"

"No, of course not. Kathryn?"

"Mmm?"

"Talk to Seven."

**Part 2**

Seven-of-Nine was indeed talking to the Doctor, who was rather too outspoken in her view. She had told him, matter-of-factly, about what had happened in Astrometrics, and his response was less than helpful.

"Like I've said before, Seven, you've never had sex. It's a feeling that is new to you. You need to get to know the Captain more, feel comfortable with her, explain that it is new to you. I'm sure she will understand."

"We were not 'having sex'" stated Seven primly, and the Doctor blew out a long holographic breath of frustration.

"No, but the feelings you were having were those of sexual arousal. Look, Seven," he said, finally facing her directly and speaking carefully to the Borg. "All this is new to you, it's going to feel a little strange. But sexual feelings are normal for humans, you will quickly…adapt. Was it not pleasurable?"

Seven balked at the directness of the Doctor's questions, though the irony was lost on her. She stood upright and her tone was flat. "As I have explained, the experience was…different. And not one I would care to repeat. What should I tell the Captain?"

"Tell her that you don't wish to have a relationship with her. That is what you're saying, isn't it? That you don't love her, you don't want to spend time with her, don't -"

"That is not what I am saying, Doctor, as I suspect you well know. I was simply unsure that I wish to have a…physical -"

"Sexual," interrupted the Doctor.

"- relationship," finished Seven, glaring at the hologram who was being less than helpful. The Doctor sighed again and came face-to-face with the ex-Borg.

"My advice is this. Go to the holodeck, learn about human sexuality. I have several programs you can try. When you're done, have a shower then go and find Captain Janeway."

Seven inclined her head. "Understood. Thank you, Doctor," she added pointedly as she walked out of the sick bay doors.

**Part 3**

"Hey, Neelix." Janeway's soft voice penetrated the cook's dreamy thoughts of soufflés and baked Alaska. He shook his head and faced the Captain with a smile.

"Hello, Captain. Good to see you, what can I get you? I have some steak and kidney pie left – totally safe and absolutely delicious!" Neelix met the Captain's eyes and smiled, sensing something not right in Janeway's mood. "Tell you what, Captain, I'm hungry too. Ensign!" he shouted to a crewmember who was examining the replicator.

"Yes, er, Sir?"

"Watch the kitchen for a minute, hmm?"

"But, Sir, I'm an engineer, I don't know – oh, hello there, Captain, I didn't see you. Of course, Sir, I'll see to it. Right away. Sir!"

Janeway smiled. "Neelix, anyone on the crew would do whatever you asked, they love you. As do I. Maybe they don't treat you like an officer – because you're not, technically – but they are loyal to anyone who gives them food. And me, of course." She smiled, but it was strained, and Neelix didn't hesitate to ask.

"Is something the matter, Captain? You seem…down. Would you like to talk about it?" Neelix was so warm, so sincere that Janeway nearly burst into tears right there in the mess hall.

"Yes, Neelix, but perhaps somewhere less public. Your quarters?"

Neelix nodded and pulled the Captain to her feet, speaking briskly about dishes he was creating, most of which sounded unpalatable to the half-listening Janeway.

"Hey, Ensign?" Neelix called to the junior officer temporarily manning the galley. "Please could you look after things here until I get back? Chop the vegetables on the side there, and make sure the stew doesn't burn on the bottom."

"Yes, Sir," replied the Ensign, scowling slightly. "'Bye, Captain."

"'Bye, Ensign…Roberts." The name came to her at the last second, and the man beamed back at her, suddenly happy with his new temporary station. Simply knowing the man's name had cheered him up, thought Janeway as she meekly followed Neelix to his quarters. Suddenly, she stopped, changing her mind.

"Neelix, I'm sorry but I have to be elsewhere. Thank you for your help." Without a glance back she walked off purposefully down the corridor, leaving Neelix to wonder. The Talaxian shook his furry head and made his way back to the mess hall, muttering all the way. 

**Part 4**

On the Bridge, everything was quiet, with a palpable tension that was felt by everyone. Eyes were glued to the viewscreen, though sensors were back online and would tell a person far more than the view out of the window. There was none of the usual banter, exchanges between officers, small talk. Everyone was focused on what was happening outside. So far, so good, and Voyager was now twelve light years away from the danger zone. Nevertheless, Chakotay felt anxious.

"Helm, course and speed?"

"Bearing 138 mark 2, warp nine point two."

"Tactical, anything on sensors?"

"Negative, Commander."

Chakotay paced the Bridge, glaring at the viewscreen. It would be hours, even a day until they cleared the Order's space, yet he couldn't relax. He wondered what Janeway was doing, and smiled. With any luck she'd taken his advice and was now with Seven-of-Nine.

_WHAM_!

"Report!" barked Chakotay, turning first to Harry Kim, who stabbed frantically at the controls.

"Same weapon as before, Sir. The Order!"

"Shields up. Hail them."

"No response." Tuvok was calm, and once more Chakotay was grateful for that. He understood why he was supposed to be Janeway's first officer.

"Commander, I could try hailing them again on all frequencies and subspace bands. Maybe they don't pick up our regular channels?" Kim sounded desperate as another blast rocked the ship.

"Do it. If you get them, tell them about the cure, and fast. Chakotay to Janeway."

Janeway's voice sounded over the comm system. "I'm on my way, Commander. Arm photon torpedoes, prepare a – what was it? plasma-thoron beam?"

"Torres is on it, Captain, but I doubt it'll work a second time. Harry is trying to contact-"

"Aaaaargghh!" Screams came from several places as Voyager was hit again, throwing people around like confetti.

"I've got them, Captain – I mean, Commander. Audio only."

"_This is the Order. You have thirty seconds to speak before we destroy your vessel."_

Chakotay moved to the centre of the bridge, tugging his uniform straight. He was wishing that Janeway were there when suddenly doors swished open and there she was. Framed in the doorway, the Captain seemed larger then life, her uniform clean, pips gleaming, attitude absolutely Starfleet.

"Hello, the Order. Is there another name I can use? Never mind. I know about the parasite, that you were…given by the Hendar. We can cure it. Is that enough for you to call off your hounds?" Janeway's tone was that of controlled fury. She was angry, that much was obvious, and privately Harry Kim was glad that he was on her side. Several minutes passed before the voice sounded again.

"_We are interested in your proposal. Meet me on the second moon to discuss terms. I will provide a beacon."_

"Oh, no no no," replied Janeway, steely in her voice and eyes. "You attack people, murder them for no reason. Why should I risk my crew, or myself, to meet with you? Why won't you come here?"

"_We are not murderers, Captain. I will explain. Please come to the second moon of the inhabited planet. You will not be harmed. Please bring weapons if you want to."_

"Well, you heard them," Janeway announced. "Chakotay, take an away team. Armed to the teeth!"

"Ah, Captain, I think they want you to go personally. It's against regulations, but we may have no choice. Whom would you like on your team?"

Janeway thought for a moment. They may well be the first people to have proper contact with the Order, and she couldn't risk anything going wrong. "Seven, Paris, Tuvok. Oh, and Neelix," she added, anticipating the reaction from Chakotay.

"He's the only one who knows anything about the Order," said Janeway. "And he's charming – might help us somehow. I've made my decision, Chakotay."

**Author's Note**

Ooh, well, that was exciting! Review please!

Cheers,

Sam.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The away team beamed down to the planet, somewhat hesitantly as there were still no readings on the sensors of a planet actually being there. Torres had taken the precaution of beaming down a sample container, complete with visual recording and atmospheric sensors, and retrieving it before people were transported, but still the anxiety held.

"Well, isn't this nice?" bumbled Neelix, looking around what appeared to be a large meadow. A stone structure stood at one corner, which Tuvok approached cautiously. It was a kind of pillar, approximately eight metres high, surrounded by a stone building resembling a barn which was open on one side.

"What now, Captain?" Paris asked, wandering around the site. His question was answered very shortly with the arrival of three heavyset men, dressed in navy-blue uniforms but carrying no weapons that Janeway could discern.

"Welcome to Kendra," stated one of the men, extending his arms in greeting. "We are members of the Territories Security Services. Please follow me. We will go to a transport site." He beckoned to the five Voyager crew, who followed with weapons drawn. One of the men laughed and pointed.

"There is no need for weapons here. Our security forces are unarmed, as are the government members and civilians. We do not believe in carrying weapons, not even batons or non-lethal guns."

Janeway beckoned to her crew, and they lowered their phasers, phaser rifles and other armaments. Shortly, a transport site was reached, whisking away the Voyager crew.

The man facing Janeway was unfamiliar to her, but seemingly kind and benign, a far cry from what the Captain had expected. They sat in a large office, decorated with what Janeway presumed was native art. Her away team was next door, within voice range should they be required. Janeway sat upright and looked the Commissioner in the eye.

"Why do you attack vessels without warning?" she asked bluntly, hands outstretched on the table before her. The man facing her shifted uncomfortably before dropping his head.

"We only attack ships that carry the disease. We cannot allow them to transport it back to their home systems."

"So you just kill them? With no warning?" Janeway's fury began to build, and her companion was quick to reply.

"No, no, not at all. We disable ships that are carrying the parasite and bring them here. We have excellent medical facilities, Captain, and can provide a good life here. Those who do not succumb are well-treated and life a happy life."

Janeway leaned forward, meaningfully. "We can offer you a cure for the parasite. But, in return, you must offer us free passage through your space. And, you must cease your attacks on other ships."

The man smiled, running his hand through his sparse hair. "Agreed, Captain. If we can offer a cure to other species, we have no need to capture their ships. What do you ask in return?"

Janeway hesitated. All she wanted was passage through the Order's space, but it seemed as though they were being offered more. "Nothing," she said eventually.

The man nodded. "Thank you, Captain, and best wishes." He escorted Janeway to a transporter site where the rest of the away team were waiting. They were transported in a beam of yellow light.

"Any thoughts, gentlemen?" Janeway once again faced her officers across the briefing room table. "I don't know about anyone else, but that all just seemed too damned easy for my liking."

"I must admit I thought the same thing," mused Neelix, looking around at Paris who nodded his agreement.

"I think so too, Captain. I mean, I could be wrong, but things just don't seem to happen that way in the Delta Quadrant. I bet we don't get three light years before they come after us."

Torres grinned, her expression like that of a cunning fox. "That may be, Tom, but I think next time it will be more of an even match. I analysed data from scans of the planet you brought back. You didn't know it, but you passed very close to one of their major defence installations. Normally, I suspect scans wouldn't get through, however-" she shrugged nonchalantly "I modified some of your tricorders with a rotating polaric scan. It wasn't perfect, but it did the job."

"Hang on a minute. You're saying you _spied_ on these people?" Tom's tone was incredulous. "I don't believe you. Now they're sure to come after us when they find out."

Janeway held up a pacifying hand. "Let's find out what B'Elanna has to say. And, somewhat devious though it may seem," Torres looked down guiltily at this point and Janeway smiled to herself, "we weren't given any instructions about bringing scanning devices with us. They weren't even concerned about our weapons, and we could've wiped out a small town with those. Go on, B'Elanna."

"As I was saying, Captain, you approached within fifty metres of a considerable weapons array. The data indicated that they are graviton-based, but work on a mechanism of phase variance in the plasma used to generate the pulse. I think that their cloaking technology uses a similar principle."

"How does that help us, Lieutenant?" Chakotay asked, and the Chief Engineer grinned devilishly once again.

"Simple. Now that I know what the weapon is, it required only a small adjustment to our shields. I have already completed the modification, Captain, using the main deflector to emit a reverse-phase polaron beam-"

"Thus counteracting the weapon's effect," finished Seven-of-Nine with a rare note of admiration. "Ingenious."

"Thanks. Maybe we won't need it, but I sure as hell feel safer now."

"I think we all do, Lieutenant," replied Janeway. "Good work." She smiled at her Chief Engineer. "Is there anything else?"

There was no response, and Janeway dismissed the group, following behind. Glancing at the Captain's chair on the bridge, she crossed and entered her ready room where she obtained a badly-needed coffee. Sinking down into a comfy chair, the Captain groaned when the door beeped.

"Come in," she snapped, sitting straighter. Chakotay entered and waited until the doors slid shut behind him before speaking.

"B'Elanna did a good job. She was pleased with your praise."

Janeway waved her metal mug in response. "Credit where it's due, Commander. She's a fine officer." Janeway paused. "They all are. Starfleet, Maquis, Tom Paris…" Chakotay smiled at that.

"Did you get a chance to speak to Seven yet, Captain?"

Janeway shook her head, pushing an auburn lock from her face and pointing her gaze fixedly out of the window.

"Ok, so you don't want to talk about it, I understand. But, Kathryn? It's not going to go away."

"I know that, Chakotay. But, you know what, when it comes to…personal relationships, I'm not the boss. I'm not going to be the one always doing the running, being the 'mature' one in a relationship. I'm a person, not just a 'Captain'. If Seven wants to talk about it, then it's her turn to come to me." Janeway's mouth was set in a rueful half-smile as she turned to face her friend. "I tried before, and look where that got me. No, Chakotay, it's up to her now."

The large man nodded, his brow creased in a frown. He didn't necessarily agree with Janeway, but he did see her point, and he could only offer his advice. "I'm here to talk if you need me, Kathryn." He walked out, leaving Janeway to stew over her coffee.

Voyager had travelled almost three light years before, without warning, the ship was attacked yet again. Though the ship rocked a little, no damage was reported and the shields remained intact. Janeway turned to Chakotay. "It seems our new shields work perfectly. Hail them, Mr. Kim."

"Three light years," said Paris from the helm. "What did I tell you?"

"On screen."

The self-professed Commissioner with whom Janeway had spoken on the planet appeared on the main viewscreen. Unlike before, he now wore a military uniform sporting a series of bands on the left shoulder. As the other men on the screen were similarly dressed but with fewer bands adorning their uniform, Janeway deduced that this 'Commissioner' was in fact a senior member of the military. She wasn't wrong.

"Captain Janeway." He spat out the words like Janeway might have said 'The Borg' or 'decaffeinated coffee'. "I am High Commander Banar, the equivalent of your Starfleet Admirals. You scanned our facilities, betrayed our trust. We will destroy you!"

"Please, Commander-" Janeway began, and was interrupted rudely.

"_High_ Commander, Captain." He said 'Captain' like a dreadful swear word, as though it were beneath him to even acknowledge such a lowly rank.

"Please, _High Commander_, we were only trying to protect Voyager in the event of a further attack. We have no desire for conflict." The Voyager bridge crew waited tensely as the man on screen turned to speak with other members of his crew. "No doubt checking out our new shield configuration," Janeway murmured to Chakotay out of the corner of her mouth.

"That is unacceptable. You have one minute to surrender your vessel or it will be destroyed, yourselves along with it."

Janeway smiled, not a friendly smile but one of strength and determination. "I think you'll find your weapons are useless against our shields, _Commander._"

"Your weapons cannot harm us either," snapped the officer, increasingly annoyed. There was conversation from the men surrounding him, manning various consoles. Janeway saw no females.

"That's true," she admitted. "It seems we have a stalemate."

"You have but one ship, Janeway. We are many. I could order a vessel to ram yours, a glorious sacrifice for those aboard who die for their people."

"You don't strike me as the kamikaze type," stated Janeway drolly. "You like a fight, but you're not going to get one. You're like the playground bully whose victim suddenly grew bigger than him. Go away, _Commander_. I've had enough of your threats." The Captain turned to Harry Kim and signalled for him to end communication.

"Very brave, Captain. I hope you're doing the right thing." Chakotay watched out of the viewscreen as the now-visible alien ship faced Voyager. For a long moment nobody dared breathe as they awaited the Order's response. Finally, the alien ship powered its engines and swung around in a long turn, approaching Voyager so closely that the ship was buffeted with their propulsion waste. In a flash, the ship was gone.

"I think we've seen the last of them. Now, if nobody objects, I'm going to run myself a long, hot bath, read a good book and go to bed." Janeway placed a hand on Chakotay's shoulder briefly, then left the bridge.

"How does she do it?" wondered Harry, looking to the First Officer. Chakotay's expression was serious as he replied.

"I don't know, Harry. I really don't."

"Do you think they would've attacked again if we hadn't scanned their weapons base?"

"I have no idea. Quite frankly it doesn't matter. Nobody got hurt and we live to fight another day. You know what? I think I'll get some sleep too. It's been a long day." Chakotay stood and stretched his long arms into the air. "Feel up to the day shift, Harry?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Then you have the conn."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The Captain's quarters were dark when Janeway entered, and they felt empty and unused. Which, Janeway supposed, they had been for a while.

"Lights," she ordered softly, and a warm glow illuminated the room. She looked around at her possessions, which started off as a few treasured items but had grown during the past six years. Reminders of Voyager's adventures decorated the walls and surfaces, art from friendly races they had met, a beautiful tapestry, a piece of debris from the first Borg vessel Voyager had destroyed. The older things, a photograph of herself and Mark and Janeway's dog, one of her grandparents, smiling and happy. A bunch of flowers sitting in a blue vase – where did they come from, wondered Janeway, then remembered. They were the same ones she had thrown back at the Doctor in the mess hall, what seemed like months ago. Looking closer, she saw a simple white card affixed to one of the stems.

It read: To Captain Janeway. Happy Birthday from Seven-of-Nine.

The script was childlike, by a hand unused to writing. Janeway's throat constricted as she felt tears in her eyes, and she walked quickly to the replicator.

"Coffee, black." Taking up the mug, the Captain moved her gaze to the window. The ship was still travelling at warp speed, and there was little to see. Placing her coffee on a table, she sank into a chair, determined not to feel sorry for herself but steadily losing the battle.

"Get a grip, Kathryn," she muttered, slapping herself hard across the cheek. Pain stung her face, for a moment causing her to forget her worries. "Ow!" she exclaimed, almost smiling. Remembering her plans for a relaxing bath, Janeway spoke.

"Computer, prepare a bath, hot, with, ah, tea tree and mint bubbles."

"Acknowledged."

Padding over to the bathroom, Janeway discarded her uniform. Her figure was compact, strong yet attractive, her skin pale and smooth. She climbed into the bath, a proper bath with water, a Captain's perk as no other quarters boasted such luxury. A few had water showers, bust for the most part Voyager's crew had to make do with the sonic version, which left one just as clean (probably cleaner) but without the relaxing feeling of hot water and soap. Sighing dreamily, Janeway sank down into the steaming tub, completely submersing herself for several seconds before resurfacing, warm and content.

_beep_

"Oh, for crying out loud! Who is it?" snapped Janeway. "No, actually, never mind. Unless Voyager is in imminent danger of destruction, go away!"

"It is Seven-of-Nine, Captain. I wish to speak with you. As far as I know, Voyager is in no danger at present." Was that sly humour in Seven's tone?

Janeway almost laughed. Almost, but not quite. Of all the times the Borg could have chosen, she turned up when Janeway was wet, vulnerable and naked. The Captain debated her options. There weren't many, so she opted for what appeared to be the simplest. Hauling herself out of the bath and quickly pulling on a fluffy robe, Janeway called out once again. "Come in."

Seven-of-Nine entered, and Janeway could detect no change in expression as her pale blue eyes took in the Captain's appearance. In fact, the younger woman was surprised, feeling the attraction that she had felt for Janeway for longer than she dared to admit to herself, but her self-control allowed her to hide her feelings.

"Captain, I would like to…talk to you. Have I entered at an inconvenient time?" Janeway's robe was slipping at the shoulders, exposing more than the Captain thought prudent, and she hastily tugged the sides together.

"Well, I was just having a bath, but that can wait. What's on your mind?" Janeway remained calm, distant even, and Seven was tempted to simply blurt out her feelings, yet something stopped the words from forming. Instead, the blonde approached Janeway, much as the Captain has done in astrometrics, walking behind her and reaching out a hand. Seven was much less sure of herself than Janeway had been, but she maintained contact, first one hand on one of Janeway's shoulders, then two, winding carefully around the older woman's neck, Seven's chin dropping to rest on a shoulder. Janeway could feel Seven's heart beating against her, the tempo quick.

"Are you sure, Seven?" asked Janeway in a murmur, and the response was positive, lips pressing against her neck and arms tightening around her, slipping to her waist. Janeway wanted to turn around, and intuitively Seven's arms loosened to allow her to do so. Tilting their heads together, the two women shared a passionate kiss, the first of many that evening.

"Is the bath still hot?" whispered Seven, and Janeway laughed.

"Let's find out," she replied.

"Chakotay to Janeway."

The Captain was in Engineering, talking to Torres about ongoing repairs to the ship, when her first officer called.

"Go ahead, Commander."

"I just wondered if you would like to have lunch."

Janeway shrugged, smiling. "I would like that, Commander. I'll see you in the mess hall in ten minutes. Janeway out."

Chakotay wasted no time in introducing the topic for the day. "Well?"

"Well, what?" answered Janeway, arching her eyebrows at her lunch companion.

"Well, when I asked the computer where Seven was last night – late last night; I was going to talk to her about you – it said she was in the Captain's quarters."

"She was."

"And?"

"And, let's just say we sorted a few things out. It's fine, Chakotay. I'm fine, better than fine. We're going to take things slowly, but last night was the best thing that's happened to me since we got dragged to this quadrant."

Chakotay grinned. "That good, hmm?"

Janeway smiled back. "Oh, yeah."

THE END

Thank you for staying with me, I hope that you liked the story. I really didn't want it to finish, but it had run its course. I will now start work on another, so it's not all bad!

Thanks again for reading, and for all your wonderful reviews.

Sam.


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